


Three Wolf Moon Run

by Meraripill



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - College/University, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Coffee Shop, Confrontations, Demonic Possession, Derek Tries, Derek is Not a Failwolf, F/F, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Hale Family Feels, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Name-Calling, Pack Dynamics, Panic Attacks, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Recovering Stiles Stilinski, Recovery, Yelling, hipster culture, multiple personality memory, not politically correct terms, shiny happy people holding hands, taco truck tuesday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:02:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8354371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meraripill/pseuds/Meraripill
Summary: This is an AU where Stiles is always a girl, Scott isn't a werewolf and we don't meet Derek until Stiles is in college. Stiles had been possessed by a Nogitsune but Kira, Scott and Lydia expelled it and Stiles is now in recovery. She still has residual memories which belong to someone else. Lots of people actually. She also has some skills she didn't have before. Stiles is attending Community College where she meets Erica again. They haven't been friends since grade school. It's a new start. I've tagged Stiles/Boyd but it is only a way-station to eventual Stiles/Derek and Erica/Boyd so don't get too upset. Derek still has his pack. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Jackson, Malia, and Cora. Everyone is on a sexual spectrum and nobody cares who dates who. (my AU, I make the rules.)I have Stiles flirting with Boyd here at the beginning because I really like their dynamic and feel like it was underused. I also SUPER love Tyler Hoechlin and his real happy-go-lucky personality but Derek Hale will forever be a brooding grumpy bear in my mind.





	1. Second chances at making friends

**Author's Note:**

> I found this on my computer when I was in a mood to delete everything I've ever written. I forgot I even wrote it. I might rewrite this into a short story, not in the Teenwolf fandom. (I haven't watched the show for so long, I feel nervous about posting anything.) But I love Erica too much. I love all these characters. (Probably more than the writers that killed them) (yes, I'm bitter.) 
> 
> Anyway, so I'm posting this here. I don't know where it will go in the future. I have been dealing with some serious depression for a few years now and it wiped my brain of all creative thought. 
> 
> Depression is dumb. I hate it. For example, I came in here to burn my writing to the ground and almost cried when I found some things that aren't terrible. Maybe my writing is worth more than just for porn. Maybe I can do this.

Stiles Stilinski circled the student lot cursing the lack of a single empty space. “Why did I pay for a parking pass if there are never any spots?” 

Stiles hated the fact that she had to go to Community College instead of her dream of Stanford or any of the UC schools. Events in her senior year had fucked her GPA, cost her the scholarships she had applied for and the acceptance letter she had already bought a frame for. She ratcheted back dreams several times. She was trying to be grateful to be parking in a possibly illegal spot against the fence on the outer edge of the BHCC campus. 

She promised her dad that she would maintain perfect grades for two years and he promised he would pay for her to complete her education in the UC system. 

It wasn’t her fault she was possessed for months without anyone knowing, not even her. You would think that a thousand year old demon would know how to pass a history class or at least math. Nope. It was clever enough to pick up the language quirks of the internet age but it had no patience for homework. To its own demise. It was the abrupt drop in grades that alerted her dad, put Stiles in a padded cell for weeks while Kira, Scott and Lydia worked out who was really driving. 

Turns out getting the bastard out against his will left her with some pretty gnarly dreams. Things she saw with a first person perspective but had no memory of. Some of them from her months in the back seat. Most of them from the multiple lives he had taken over and destroyed. 

Dr. Ito, the therapist Kira’s mom recommended, was helpful. Stiles could almost sleep for four hours at a time. Her weight was back up to a low normal BMI, her hair was growing out and her eyes didn’t have that overly open ‘scared of everything’ look anymore. She still felt fragile on occasion. Weirdly, the fact that she had muscle memory for fighting like a gladiator/crazed badger didn’t help. That was what made her feel like a stranger in her own body. 

The classroom was dark. A note on the door with an apology from the professor. 

“An example of why texting your students should be allowed.” Stiles complained to the other students turning and mumbling. She looked around for anyone she knew from school. Lots of her BHSH alumni came here but for some reason not a lot of them enrolled in the anthropology classes in the first term. 

She missed having friends to walk campus with. Scott found his way to a veterinary school in Seattle. Kira moved there with him to go to U of WA. Lydia moved to MIT. She wasn’t sure where everyone else moved to. She lost touch with a lot of them while institutionalized. Starting up a conversation after that was awkward. 

She had to salt and burn her Facebook page and most of her social media. The being she sometimes referred to as Legion discovered the chaos and outrage you can inspire with a photo or a well worded status update. There weren’t a lot of friends worth keeping on there. (Stiles has a theory that chaos demons are creating internet trolls or maybe vice versa.)

Stiles debated going back to the Jeep and looking for a legal spot or walking across campus to the art building for a leisurely coffee. She chose coffee. She would almost always choose coffee. 

Stiles stood at the triangular structure in the middle of the campus thoroughfare. An actual community college campus corkboard covered in weathered papers and band posters. People still used this? Online posting boards, the college chat rooms and even the local Craig’s List were probably more efficient than this. She couldn’t help feed her curiosity.

She pulled her sweater close as a breeze picked up and pushed around the papers barely holding on. Some were tacked on with the rusty thumbtacks provided. Some stuck on with t-pins, mangled paperclips and one with a flag shaped lapel pin where all the blue had faded. She read through fliers that advertised cheap furniture, guitar lessons, yoga classes and crystal jewelry that promised to help you focus through your next exam. 

“Luddite Hippies and charlatans.” Stiles muttered under her breath. She smiled at the quirky sketch of a fat toad in the downward dog pose. She moved around the corner to see if maybe the other side offered anything more interesting. 

Standing there was a tall dark athletic looking guy with a messenger bag slung across his muscular chest and a gym bag at his feet. He was folding back a missing cat poster so that he could read the page under it. She couldn’t see what the text said but there was a cartoonish rendition of three wolves and a moon. One of the wolves was wearing a beanie and the middle one had thick glasses and a scarf, the bottom one had a coffee in his paw while riding a bike. 

“Is that an ad for meme resurrection services?” Stiles tiptoed to see the print. 

The guy laughed. “It’s some sort of running club.” 

“Trying to attract hipsters by mocking them?” Stiles leaned closer to the guy. He smelled like he had freshly showered, clean, warm with a spicy pine sort of scent. The inventory left behind by Legion told her scent was rosemary and olive oil soap, shea butter skin products and salts most likely used for deodorant. She sometimes liked the information. She also saw how to dislocate his shoulder with the strap of his bag or snap his neck so not all of it was good. 

“I think they are trying to weed out the hipsters who might think full moon running is a new trend like collecting your own drinking water from natural springs.” 

The guy was tall, almost 6 inches taller than Stiles, who was 5’9.  
“Is that a thing?” Stiles squinted. “Hipsters think intestinal parasites are cool now?” 

“It’s how they stay so skinny.” The guy had a huge smile. She liked it. 

“I thought it was just the limited foods available if you’re vegan, glucose free, lactose intolerant and refuse to eat anything hybridized.” 

“My name is Boyd.” He didn’t offer his hand or lean toward her. 

“I’m Stiles.” She reached up to the board and played with a pushpin. It was a redirection from her reaching toward him when she realized he kept both hands in sight but to himself. He was either touch shy or had been taught to appear very nonthreatening. 

“Interesting. Do you need...” He nodded to the card she was fussing with. “...Reiki hot crystal cupping massage?” He took the card and turned it over. “It comes with a free green tea cleansing.” 

“I’m pretty sure that offends five different cultures. Plus, I prefer to take my tea orally and in coffee form.” As if on cue, her stomach growled. She debated the idea of sacrificing delicious pastries for more tentative flirting. That’s at least what she thought this was. 

“I don’t know, the cupping massage sounds interesting.” His hand went to his crotch subconsciously.

“That’s where they light alcohol on fire on your skin and create suction to stick little jars to you.” Stiles watched his face twitch as he thought about it. “Leaves you looking like you made out with a giant squid.” 

Stiles smiled at his grimace and decided to push a bit more. “It’s not code for a crotch fondle.” She reached forward and pulled an ad off the board ‘Rent a masseuse.’ “I think this is what you’re looking for.” 

He still held the first card. “So this one won’t do a happy ending?” His mischievous grin only partially hidden. 

“No, a bunch of hickies and no actual sex.” Stiles scuffed her feet a bit and looked away.

Boyd shrugged then tucked the card back on the board. 

“I was going to get a coffee and a pastry.” Stiles fidgeted with her computer bag. “If I don’t get their before the ceramics class, all the baked goods will be gone. Those pot heads clear the cart.” 

“I have a class in a few minutes.” Boyd checked his phone and picked up his bag. “Maybe I’ll see you around?” 

Stiles had few classes that were on this end of the campus. She never went to the gym which was probably where he had just been. She doubted she would see him again accidently but didn’t want to push for a contact number. “Yeah, maybe.” It was early in the semester she thought hopefully. 

She waved and turned toward the art building. She was several steps away when she looked back. He was taking a photo of the wolf poster with his phone. She would do the same when she came by again. 

Stiles watched as he walked away. She wasn’t sure if he looked back at her. He seemed to hesitate when she almost tripped into a planter but he didn’t look at her. He looked at his phone again. She sighed and resolved to watch where she was going instead of watching his ass in track pants. 

The few tables on the patio that cropped out from the art building were filled with small town hipsters. The worst kind. The hipsters that were a few years behind which didn’t make them hipsters at all. It made them pathetic wannabes. If Stiles had time and someone to talk to she could argue the difference between social trends and fashion and true hipsterism; but she was drinking an overpriced coffee and eating a gluten free oatmeal cookie made with wild clover honey and free trade slivered almonds. She might have cursed the smock wearing bastard for taking the last danish but the cookie was freaking amazing. The morning was almost perfect. She just wished she had someone to sit with.

“Stiles” 

This was where the skills she learned in therapy would come in. She had just wished for someone to sit with and somewhere in her brain she thought she heard her name. It was a cruel prank that the bastard demon would have played. She took her measured breath and counted the people in the area like a lifeguard counts the kids in the pool. Still only twenty three. Were any of them looking at her? There was a girl in an oversized grey cable-knit sweater and a dark blue scarf. She had thick glasses on and her hair tied in a messy bun on the top of her head. Stiles was sure she didn’t know anyone who dressed like that. 

“Stiles.” The girl was waving now. Stiles looked at her with a question on her face. “Stilinski, Get your ass over here.” 

“Erica?” Stiles had known Erica since grade school but she was always the quiet prim looking girl. Stiles skimmed past the large concrete column and squeezed into the open space on the bench. “I didn’t recognize you with the glasses.” 

Erica flinched. “I’m wearing safety glasses?” She took them off. “I was smashing the duds.” She said this as an explanation. It wasn’t. “I almost didn’t recognize you with the pixie cut. It’s adorable.” 

Stiles slouched into her hoodie, the back of her neck still not use to the cold air. “It was an adjustment.” 

“You have the perfect face for it. Your eyes look amazing without bangs over them.” 

“I haven’t had bangs since 6th grade.” Stiles looked offended. 

“Really? I always think of you with bangs.” Erica smiled wistfully. “Maybe because I had a crush on you and Zooey Deschanel at the same time.” 

“Thanks?” 

Stiles looked around the table at the several people seated with them. Three of them were on their phones and one had her face inches from a sketchbook, blocking her work with her arm. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you. This is Isaac.” Erica pointed to one of the people reading his phone. He raised a few fingers as a wave but didn’t look up. 

“This is Cora.” A dark haired girl looked up and smiled for a second before tipping her head to the side and holding out her phone. 

“Can I take a picture of your ear?” Cora didn’t wait for an answer before her phone clicked. She looked at the photo and then reached across the table and turned Stiles’ head. “Hold it.” She clicked another photo. 

“She’s sculpting heads this term. Last week she was taking photos of noses. Be lucky. She got a lot of nostril shots.” Erica waved her off. 

“Malia, say hi to Stiles.” Erica waved at the other girl who was watching something with headphones in. She looked up and smiled before going back to her video. 

Stiles looked at the last girl who looked up at Erica with a scowl. “I don’t know these people. they just sat here.” 

“Are you all art students?” Stiles took another bite of her cookie. 

“Isaac’s in the automotive lab and Malia is visiting her cousin, Cora.” Erica looked comfortable answering for everyone. They all let her do it. 

“So, Stiles, how have you been since your ‘Wellington Retreat’?” Erica’s tone was friendly enough for a loaded question. Stiles was actually more comfortable with the outright question then the overly sympathetic whispers of her former friends. 

“Mostly good. I have some ticks now and then.” Stiles exaggerated an eye twitch. Erica giggled.

“I’m just glad to have you back. I met that dude wearing you, I have to say, he could be a charmer but...no!” She shivered.

“When?” Stiles’ heart skipped and her stomach clenched. She had a dreamlike memory of a lot of the things that happened when she wasn’t driving. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Erica. 

“We had to check my cousin Sam in to Eichen House. He was possessed by lucifer.” Erica spoke softly even though everyone around her appeared to be ignoring them. I saw you in the hallway and thought it was just one of those weekend refreshers we all sometimes need. I knew it wasn’t you when you offered to take me to the showers.” 

“That could have been me.” Stiles shrugged. 

“No, after you kissed me, I was disappointed you didn’t know my name.” Erica smiled.

“Yeah, Sorry. I wish I remembered that.” Stiles winked. 

“God, Get a room!” The girl with the sketch book complained. 

“Shut up Greenberg.” Isaac mumbled back. 

Stiles’ phone alarm sounded. “That’s my walk to class warning.” She gathered her things.

Erica took Stiles’ phone from her hand and called herself. “I’m not letting you get away again.” She handed her phone back. Stiles looked at the new contact. It said ‘Erica ReYES’. 

Stiles shouldered her bag and tossed her empty cup before waving off and jogging away. She barely had time to stop at the bulletin board and snap a photo of the wolf moon flyer. 

~~~~

Stiles sits in her math class, bored but trying. It’s the middle of the day and this professor sounded like a metronome. She is resisting the urge to ask questions just to change the pace. It’s something she use to do when was a better student. She use to be gregarious and able to pull enthusiasm up in people when she needed to. She can’t find enthusiasm in herself these days. 

Erica send a photo of cora sculpting a bust with her phone in one hand as reference. iT was captioned 

You’re about to be ear-mortalized in clay.

Stiles groans and the professor stops speaking. She hides the phone and goes back to listening. The class can’t end soon enough. She gets another text from Erica. 

Punny?

She texts back. 

It’s actually a play on words or a malapropism, but yes. Funny.

Erica responds. 

You got some fun sucked out, didn’t you?

Stiles flinches. She might be more serious now but that could just be the fact that she’s 18 instead of 12, which is apparently when she last talked to Erica. 

I’ve always been pedantic.

Stiles might also be a bit defensive.

Erica replies. 

I don’t know what that means. Does it have to do with feet?

The next text came quickly after. 

Cora said it means you’re a know it all. Obviously.

~~~

Stiles walks back to find the Jeep with a note on it. She panics for a bit. School parking tickets are hers to pay. Even if his officers know her, she doesn’t get special treatment. Her dad told her this at the beginning of school year. When she opens the note, it’s from Deputy Parrish. 

“I saw the infamous blue Jeep parked here and thought you could use a warning instead of a ticket. Try the lot behind the Health Sciences Building, there are always space there.” 

Deputy Parrish may be trying too hard to look out for his boss’s daughter. It might be to make up for the time he full body tackled her in the middle of the street when she was wielding a katana and ranting in Japanese. She should be the one that felt guilty for almost taking his head off. Instead, he sent her a get well card. 

~~~~

One of the ‘benefits’ of community college was that she could live at home and save the costs of dorm living and food. That’s what her dad said. She knows better. He wanted to keep an eye on her. She knows he means well and she does appreciate it. She does. It’s just, the rest of her age group are out finding out what it’s like to live with a roommate and what floor parties are all about. Bonding over big study days, school sporting events and cafeteria food. Stiles’ big plan for tonight is watching Friday Night Lights because someone loaned her dad the box set.

She loves her dad and Connie Britton but it’s never going to be an actual social life. She just doesn't know how to tell her dad as much when he still stares at her for a bit too long, just to make sure she’s still herself. 

Her dad has enough food spread on the coffee table for a Superbowl party and his favorite jersey on. She knows this is what they use to do. They use to watch this show and talk about how much they wanted a similar show for baseball. (That’s something they would both give a kidney for.) Now she looks at the food and winces. It’s nothing her dad should be eating and yet she can’t take another thing away from him. Just this once, she allows it. 

“Hey, Kiddo, let’s get through two episodes before they call me in. It’s homecoming for the high schools and I know you remember how stupid kids are.” He pats her knee and hits play. 

“Remember Erica Reyes?” Stiles is sure her dad won’t remember her name but know the girl. “She bumped into me at school today.” 

“Was Erica the one who barfed in your school pictures?” Her dad tried. 

“No, she had a seizure in the middle of the halloween parade.” Stiles knows her dad would remember that. He was the one that cleared the room and then followed her to the hospital. 

“How is she doing?” He muted the TV. 

“She looks happy.” Stiles couldn’t think of a better thing to say about someone. 

“She’s healthy now?” 

“I guess so.” Stiles was working up to the big question. “I’ll ask her.”

~~

There was a phone buzzing under the collection of plates and napkins of the coffee table. Stiles found it and handed it to her dad. He took it and walked to the kitchen. 

Stiles used the chance to text Erica. 

What are you doing?

Nothing. Hanging with the gang.

Who’s place?

The Hale House.

Sheriff is going out on DUI patrol. Stay off the roads and away from the High School.

We’re settled into a Marvel Marathon but thanks for the heads up.

What movie are you watching?

The Ang Lee Hulk.

The Hulked out poodle is the only reason to watch that movie. Love Ang Lee but it was not my favorite Hulk.

Stilinski, you need to come over here and see the awesomeness of Bana’s Banner.

Stiles looks at the table of food left. “Dad?” He had hung up the phone and was upstairs putting on his uniform. “Can I go hang out with Erica? She just argued about which Hulk movie was best.” She knows this is a favorite subject for her dad. 

“Lou Ferrigno will forever be the hulk.” He yells down the stairs. 

She took a picture of the coffee table of food and sent it to Erica. 

What do you want? My dad made too much food.

I’m here with eight wild beasts who already ate the one bag of Doritos in the house. Can you bring it all?

“I’m taking all the food with me.” She starts gathering the various snacks. 

“Leave the ribs.” He asked but should have known better. 

“I’ll leave the crudités.” She calls back.

She doesn’t. She takes those too. Like the grinch.

~~~

Stiles follows the siri directions to the Hale House, convinced that Erica is pranking her. She pulls over at the last bit of paved road and actually calls Erica so she can hear if she was lying. She had changed into tights and a short knit dress so if there was hiking involved, she was turning back. 

“Hey, you’re almost here.” Erica didn’t even say hello.

“I’m on the side of a dirt road in the middle of the preserve. I’m not almost anywhere.”

“Turn left and go around the hill and you can see the house.”

“I swear Erica, If you are sending me to my death, my father will ruin all of your lives.”

“I would never hurt your dad. I love that man.” Erica used a breathy tone that made Stiles roll her eyes. 

She hung up and followed directions. 

Stiles was met in the drive by Erica wearing skinny jeans and boots, flanked by Cora and Malia on one side and Isaac and Jackson Whittemore on the other. They descended on Jeep and hauled all the food to the large three story Cape Cod colonial home. 

Stiles knew more about the story of the Hale House than probably anyone. She was obsessed with the reports her dad worked on. She couldn’t fathom the loss of a whole family like that. Losing her mother was devastating. Left with just siblings to fend for themselves was a concept that she had to explore in depth. Probably driven by her own fear of abandonment. (See, Dr. Ito, she learned something in therapy.)

“We all agreed that we can start the movie over because you have to see it complete.” Erica had a hand around Stiles wrist as they walked toward the door. It was as if she was afraid Stiles was going to run away. 

“Good. I think I fell asleep when I watched it the first time.” Stiles realized now that she watched it with Scott when they were in middle school. 

Stiles paused at the door. She didn’t have her hands full, she had a full view of the cars parked in the large driveway. She knew she was being watched. She pulled back at Erica and scanned the windows. There was someone in the upper floor, watching. 

“That’s Derek. It’s his house.” Erica waved. 

“Okay.” Stiles knew something more about the Hale family. She hadn’t told anyone else her theories. She only knew because she managed to hack into a few emails she should never have had access to. Convicted arsonist, Kate Argent told a group of her contacts that the Hale family were werewolves.

 

~~~~~

Erica led Stiles through the bright entryway and back to the kitchen. The others were dishing up plates of food and taking them into the other room. Stiles caught a glimpse of Derek coming down the stairs before he disappeared with Cora. She was unsure if she was really welcome here. Waiting for approval from the homeowner was maybe old fashioned and something leftover from her mother’s manners. She stuck close to Erica in the kitchen as she was mixing pitchers of drinks. 

The Hale House was rebuilt and updated with new modern features like motion sensors in the perimeters, infrared cameras, marble countertops and a Miele plumbed in espresso machine. Stiles was standing in front of the latter device making a soft moaning sound. She heard someone talking. 

“I asked if you wanted cup.” Erica nudged “Maybe you just want moment and some privacy.”

Stiles wiped her chin exaggeratedly. “I’ll use a cup this time.”

Erica pushed the buttons and they both watched as the cup was filled. 

“Thanks for inviting me over.” Stiles wiggled her toes in her keds. It was a way to fidget without being obvious. 

“I’m glad you could. It sucks that everyone left for college.” Erica scooped foam onto the top of the espresso and then ringed the edge with golden crystals of raw sugar. “You lost your Scott, I lost my Harley.” 

“She moved to Boston, right?” Stiles sipped her cappuccino, rolling her eyes back with pleasure. Erica guided her with her elbow as they moved toward the room with the giant TV. 

“She got into the Berklee College of Music. She promised me a date if she gets to the Grammys, so I’ve got that.” Erica looked sad. “Not nearly enough when my bff is 3000 miles away.” 

“You’ve got these guys. They seem great.” Stiles wasn’t one for self pity. She was good at being a great friend to a couple of people but not able to maintain a large group of friends. “What’s up with Jackson. Why is he here? Shouldn’t he be playing golf at Dartmouth or something?” 

“Officially he’s attending College of the Redwoods but I think he’s paying someone to take his classes for him.” 

“Wrong.” Jackson complained from someplace on the floor.

Erica walked over his reclined form jiggling a full pitcher of punch over his head as if to spill it. He growled his annoyance. 

“This is who we’re restarting for?” Derek looked Stiles over with an annoyed expression. 

“She just brought you meat. Be nice.” Erica kicked his outstretched feet. He tsked at Erica and she smiled sheepishly. Well as sheepishly as Erica got which was a faux shrug and batted eyes. 

Without another word or even a glance toward Stiles, Derek hit the button and the speakers blasted a thunderous test tone causing Stiles to flinch and slosh coffee onto the carpet. 

“Jackson, help her with that.” Derek said without turning his head. Jackson scrambled off the floor and grabbed a roll of paper towels before glaring at Stiles. 

Stiles clattered the cup down onto an end table and looked at Erica with a slight panic. “Sorry.” She reached for the paper towels but Jackson was already rolling off a wad of them to soak up the spill. She looked around helplessly. 

“Take a seat before you break something, nerd.” Jackson mumbled when he was close enough for only her to hear. 

“If Lydia knew you cleaned, She might take you back.” Stiles smiled at Jackson knowing he regretted breaking it off with Lydia. He might have played it cool with his friends but Stiles knew about the late night phone calls and him occasionally sleeping in the Martin’s hedge. 

“Why are you here?” He hissed. 

“Erica invited me.” Stiles tried to keep her tone polite but Jackson brought out her bitchiest side. 

“First and Last time. Don’t get comfortable.” Jackson tossed the paper towels in the trash and stomped back to his place. 

Stiles resisted the urge to sass back now that he was far enough away for the others to hear. 

It was an interesting dynamic. Jackson Whittemore cleaning up her spill like he was told but clearly not happy about it. 

She started to climb over the back of the couch when a hand grabbed her ankle before her shoe met the fabric. 

“Take these off.” Derek held her steady as she regained her balance. 

“Okay. Oh my God!” Stiles might have had a bit of residual sass in her tone and it was like the room went silent. 

She looked around guiltily noticing now that everyone had left their shoes at the door. 

Stiles wobbled a bit on her left foot but steadied before lifting her leg back over the couch. She carefully pulled her shoe off and dropped it before slipping off the other. She usually hated footed tights but today she was glad to have her toes covered. She felt really exposed with everyone watching. 

She curled up on the end of the couch as far away from Derek as she could manage. Erica poured punch in a few cups before settling in between Stiles and Derek. The Movie progressed with Erica making lewd comments equally about Jennifer Connelly and Eric Bana. There were occasional laughs from the boys. Malia asked more questions than anyone was happy with and Stiles managed to almost relax. 

“I don’t know about the Hulk with such Daddy issues?” Stiles whispered to Erica as the movie ended. 

“I know. Ang Lee loves daddy Issues.” Erica was scrolling through images on her phone of Jennifer Connelly. “Have you seen Eat Drink Man Woman?”  
“Yes. It made me glad not not have sisters.” Stiles leaned over to watch Erica on her phone. 

“Really? It made me want some.” Erica smiled. 

Cora and Isaac cleared out all the dishes and food while Derek took the disk out and put it back in it’s case. 

“Iron Man 2 is next.” He didn’t ask. He just put the next disk in. 

“You skipped ahead like 7 years.” Stiles complained. 

“It’s because it’s the better movie.” Derek smirked, crossed the room and filled his drink again. 

Cora came back with a box of popsicles and held it out for Erica and Stiles to choose one. Stiles choose a fudge pop and Erica took a cherry one. 

“Wed, Bed, Dead.” Cora pointed to Stiles. “Robert Downey Jr., Scarlett Johansson or..” She tilted her head with curiosity. “...Sam Rockwell.”

Stiles laughed. “Bed Scarlett, no question. Furiously.”

Jackson whistled. 

“Kill RDJ and marry Sam Rockwell.” Stiles ducked a well thrown wadded up napkin.

“What?!?” Several people shouted. 

Malia scowled and said without a single bit of humor. “You can leave now.”

“You didn’t say their characters in this movie. You said the actor’s names. It’s a hard choice but did you see Moon? Or Confessions of a Dangerous Mind? I love him too much.” 

“So Kill Scarlett and keep Robert Downey Jr.” Cora is stunned and not moving but the box freezer treats is taken from her and passed around by Isaac. 

“Killing ScarJo is never an option. She’s a perfect human specimen. Nope.” Stiles held her ground. 

“I’ll give you one.” Stiles smiled at Cora who was still stunned. “Characters, not actors.” Stiles cleared her throat. “Agent Coulson, Nick Fury or Howard Stark.” 

“Wed Howard Stark because money, bed Nick Fury, kill Agent Coulson because he won’t stay dead long.” Cora stated with confidence.  
“Derek you’re next.” Erica slid across the couch and licked her popsicle suggestively. “These are actors, not characters.” She hollowed her cheeks sucking down the length of her treat. “Gwyneth Paltrow, Jennifer Lawrence or Katee Sackhoff?” 

His sideways smile showed some interest in her list. “I thought you assigned a Marvel theme to tonight?” 

“I did. Katee is going to be the female Thor. The Whedon has spoken.” She waved her fingers to emphasize importance

“Wed Sackhoff, Bed - Jennifer, Dead - Gwyneth Paltrow.” He turned away as Erica nodded at her agreement. 

“It’s because of Coldplay, right?” Stiles leaned back to look at him. “Dudes hate Coldplay.”

“Fuck Coldplay.” Jackson grumbled. 

Stiles nodded as if to prove a point.


	2. Iron Man and other problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is at the Hale house with the gang, watching a movie when she has a minor panic attack. Erica is awesome and Derek doesn't know how to deal with complicated emotional states.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there is a panic attack here. Not to lengthy or extreme. Read with caution if that's an issue for you. 
> 
> The deal I have with writing is that I work with who shows up. So I have an odd assortment of characters from Teen Wolf here. Malia and Isaac weren't even on the show at the same time but I love both of them and in my head, they are in Derek's pack. They will get more focus in future chapters. Peter is still around in this world but he hasn't shown up in my head yet. (inconspicuous bastard) I also love Liam and he will be here soon. I didn't watch much of the last season and none of the newer characters have really nested in my heart so they may or may not come into play.

The Hale house was large even by American Suburb standards. Derek had it rebuilt with the same floorplan as before. Now instead of a huge extended family living there, It was just Derek and sometimes Cora. That didn’t mean it felt empty. Somehow the large room where they were all watching movies now felt crowded. There was the one sofa that made a sort of barrier between the kitchen and the living area. The wingback and occasional chairs were pushed to the walls and pillows were thrown on the floor where Isaac, Malia, Jackson and Cora had made a sort of pile. 

 

Stiles was wedged in the corner of the couch, Erica leaning against her shoulder and Derek on the other end, Erica’s toes tucked under his thigh. Stiles had her feet folded under herself and Isaac had his back to the couch directly in front of her. His head leaning against her knee occasionally. It was close contact for someone Stiles had only heard three words from. It wasn’t like she was uncomfortable with physical contact, it had just been so long since she cuddled with anyone. The anxiety was just an emotional noise, a ticking clock. If she wasn’t thinking about it too much, it would disappear. She made small talk, ate snacks and played along. She had mastered the outward appearance of comfort when she wasn't. 

 

Actually, Legion had mastered this. Before, Stiles was always a fidgeter. People would often suggest she knit. (She refused.) She did fold paper sometimes. Not into any interesting shapes, just smaller and smaller squares. She had always been someone in constant motion. 

 

Now, post possession, she could mostly hold still. It was part of whatever modification he had done to her on a cellular level. She could hear like a bat, smell and identify all sorts of random scents, sing folk songs in languages she didn’t even know existed before and sit still. It was the sitting still that makes her dad the least comfortable. Ironic for all the times he asked for exactly that. 

 

“This is how he did it. Pretend you are a normal young person. Don’t do anything to stand out which includes shutting down and hiding. Participate.” Stiles wasn’t sure her self-talk was positive. “Were out with people. Having a social life. It’s what people without tragic backstories do.” Stiles wished her inner voice wasn’t sarcastic. It would make self-talk easier. 

 

Stiles hasn’t really watched many movies since she was inhabited by a being who referred to itself as Legion. (It certainly had ego enough for six thousand) She had carefully watched shows with Dear Ole Dad which she had seen before and weren’t overly “explody”. So watching RDJ as Snarky Stark again was awesome. She really wanted to enjoy it as much as the rest of the group, But, there was this little niggling buzz of anxiety that was just between her shoulder blades.

 

“I love how Mickey Rourke rips his jumpsuit open like he’s on a porn shoot.” Erica giggled. 

 

“He learned that while shooting porn” Cora laughed. 

 

Derek leaned forward and flicked the back of Cora’s head. 

 

Malia laughed and then immediately stopped as Derek pointed at her as if she was next. “Oh, Okay. Derek thinks girls don’t know about porn.” She whispered. 

 

“I forgot,” Cora turned and made puppy eyes at her brother. “Derek still thinks I’m nine.” 

 

“Aren’t you?” Derek teased. 

 

Stiles laughed along with everyone. She was glad of the distraction. The anxiety was crawling through her ribs. She closed her eyes and took several calming breaths.

 

When she opened her eyes she realized that Derek was watching her intently. She gave back a glare and thought hard about saying “Back off, I’m dealing with it. It’s fine.” 

 

Erica seemed oblivious to her tension and was busy mocking Mickey’s russian accent. Stiles tried to look toward the screen and not see it, find a good thought to focus on. This was exactly why she went for twice weekly therapy. Coping skills.

 

Stiles kept her internal dialog going thinking hard about what her mom sounded like. “Breathe in...and two...out... and four. That’s good, Miecz*, keep going...shhhhh....Roll your shoulders.” Mom voice was hard to manage. “shit... this isn’t working.” 

 

Stiles’ plan was to go over back of the couch toward the kitchen since the floor in front of the couch was a wall of bodies. She would have had to step on someone going out that way. Climbing out of the nest of blankets and limbs, some hers and some Erica’s, was difficult to impossible. 

 

“It’s a trap!” Stiles yelled and flailed. Possibly kicking Erica in the side and Isaac in the head. “Ghaaaa!” How many blankets was she under? Was someone trying to hold her down? “It’s got me.” She wasn’t sure what she was referring to but the couch felt like quicksand. 

 

“Give her space.” Erica was pushing Isaac away. 

 

“The quilt is stuck” Isaac was pulling one side and Erica kneeling on the other. 

 

Stiles dove over the back of the couch and rolled into a crouch, then stood, straightened her clothes. “Bathroom?” Derek pointed to the door to the side of the kitchen. She took several careful steps trying hard to hide her trembling legs. When she reached the bathroom, she closed the door and slid to the floor putting her head on her knees. 

 

“Shit shit shit shit” Stiles scrubbed her fingers through her short hair trying to stop the tingling in her scalp and the weird underwater feeling in her ears. 

 

She thought about her mother’s voice. She use to sing this crazy lullaby about closing her golden eyes, she was eaglet in the song and when she grew big enough, they would fly. The melody was there but the Polish words were gone. “Goddammit!” This was making it worse. The only thing she could hear in her mother’s voice was her real name, shouted in frustration. “Mieczyslawa!” She cringed even thinking it. (Mi-et che-swava)

 

“Okay. Not helping.” Stiles pressed on her eyelids. “Shhhhhh......deep breath......Shhhhh” She shook out her hands which felt numb. She started counting heartbeats and breaths. Focused completely on the function of her body, trying to get it to slow down. “I’m safe. I think. These are all nice people. Right?” 

 

People. Yes. The murderer calling victims werewolves to justify her insanity wasn’t a trustworthy source. She believed in fairy tales. Except that less than 6 months ago Stiles sat before a panel of watchers who questioned Lydia’s methods and dismissed Stiles’ value. There had been at least three eternal beings at that meeting and she was pretty sure one of them was Fae. 

 

“Without evidence, we will assume that everyone in the house is plain old human beings.” She had encyclopedic knowledge of how to defend herself from plain old people. So, she was safe. “It’s gonna be okay. This will pass and I’ll be fine.” She took several more breaths before leaning her head back against the door. Her ears buzzed a bit but her hearing was coming back. 

 

“Stilinski was always a weirdo but now, God! What was that?” Jackson scoffed. 

 

“Don’t be an ass, Jackson.” Isaac mumbled.

 

“Why did you invite her here?” Jackson turned to Erica. “Do you run a charity for spazoids?” 

 

“What did you say? What the Fuck is wrong with you Jackson?” Erica shouted. 

 

Derek was standing between them now with a hand on Erica’s arm, keeping her from swinging a fist. 

 

Jackson leaned in. “She isn’t a good fit here and you know it.”

 

“This wasn’t an interview. I brought a friend here as a friend.” Erica growled back. “And I don’t need your permission.” 

 

“She’s a schizy and she doesn’t get to use her latest mental breakdown to get pity friends.” 

 

“Jackson, Take a lap.” Derek turned his full attention on Jackson, pushing Erica behind him. 

 

“This is bullshit!” Jackson protested but was sulking toward the back door. “You know I’m right.”

 

“And once around the lake” Derek added. 

 

Jackson stomped across the back deck and jogged toward the forest. 

 

Derek turned to Erica “She’s on the verge of a panic attack. When she comes out, drive her home.” 

 

Erica nodded and watched the bathroom door with concern. 

 

“She’s smart and funny. She was my only friend in sixth grade even if she didn’t know it.” Erica whispered. “It’s not pity.” 

 

“I know.” Cora put an arm around Erica. 

 

“I like her.” Malia plopped down in Stiles’ spot and wriggled until she was comfortable. 

 

Isaac dropped into the spot next to Malia and lay his head in her lap, tugging the quilt around himself while Malia played with his hair. 

 

“Does she know?” Derek asked Erica.

 

“It’s not the first thing I tell people, believe it or not.” Erica rolled her eyes. 

 

“It could have been a factor.” Derek crossed his arms in the way Erica knew was defensive. He hated people being afraid of him. (Except when he loved it.) 

 

“I didn’t tell her.” Erica whispered. 

 

Derek pointed to the door and Erica knew she was being put on task. 

 

Erica tapped gently on the bathroom door. She could hear the water running. 

 

“Stiles?” 

 

Stiles reached over and unlocked the door. Erica peeked around. “Are you okay?” 

 

“Yep, fine.” She slammed the faucet off. “I’ll be fine.” She dried her hands on the crisply folded towel. 

 

“So, that escalated quickly.” Erica tried for funny. 

 

Stiles appreciated the effort. “Sorry about that.” She used her LA Fake voice. “It turns out, I’ve got a little...residual...fear of being inside something I can’t control.” Stiles tried her best fake laugh. “So Iron Man and I will be...taking a break.” 

 

“Oh my GOD! I’m such an ass. Why didn’t I ask you? We just started the movie without even thinking. God, I’m so sorry.” Erica looked like she was trying to swat flies while she was reaching toward stiles and pulling back, trying to respect her space. 

 

“Well, I didn’t really know myself. So. Not your fault.” Stiles took Erica’s hand and held it still. 

 

“Can I hug you? Totally selfish of me to ask, I know.” Erica looked ready to cry. 

 

“Yeah, okay.” Stiles honestly felt like she was barely able to stand on her own so leaning on someone sounded awesome. 

 

Erica waiting a microsecond past the Y in in Yeah before she scooped Stiles against her and buried her face in her neck. Stiles’ knees turned to mush and she and Erica crumpled to the floor, Erica pulling Stiles into her lap.

 

“I’m so sorry.” Erica whispered into Stiles’ neck which gave Stiles a full body shiver. 

 

“Sssok” Stiles was suddenly so tired. She had forgotten how exhausting even a short panic attack could be. 

 

“Let me drive you home.” Erica was smoothing her hand up and down Stiles’ back. “Can I help you to the car?” 

 

“A’ite” 

 

Erica carried Stiles out of the bathroom and sat her on a the divan in the entryway while she put her shoes in a bag. She found the keys to the jeep and wrapped a huge thick sweater around her. “Give me a second and we can go.” Erica was almost pushed out of the way as Derek reached toward Stiles to pick her up. 

 

“No.” Stiles flinched. “Not you.” 

 

“Okay.” He stepped back. He looked toward Erica. “Isaac can follow you with a car. Give you a ride back.” 

 

“I’ll call if I need one.” Erica hadn’t planned on leaving Stiles home alone.

 

Derek looked suspicious but nodded approval. He also hovered while Erica tucked Stiles into the passenger seat. Erica closed the door and shoved Derek away from the car. Pushing until they were beyond listening range. 

 

“I’m staying with her tonight but when I get back tomorrow, I’m gonna kick Jackson’s stupid teeth out.” Erica fumed at her alpha. “If he doesn’t show me some actual sorrow, honest shame, he will need to keep out of my sight or he will be damaged beyond repair.” 

 

Derek huffed. “He didn’t mean it. He was acting out because I made him clean up after her. It’s my fault.” 

 

“Bullshit!” Erica growled low and threatening. “Don’t you dare excuse his abuse. Don’t defend him you bastard! You heard what he said.” 

 

“He didn’t mean it.” He said again.

 

“It doesn’t matter if he meant it or not, He said it! With the intention to hurt Stiles and me, so fuck you!” Erica stomped back to the car before deciding to go back. 

 

“Fuck you Derek.” She got right up in his face. “You’ve pick him as your ‘right hand’ because he came to you, he chose you.” Derek held his ground but didn’t look at Erica. “If you won’t defend me, why did you ask me to be here?” She couldn’t hide the waver in her voice. “I’m leaving and If you decide that you really want me, you can grovel. You and Jackson. I will not be treated like this in my own pack. You promised me...You said I would be better.” Erica was fully crying now and angry that she was. 

 

Derek looked stunned. He uncrossed his arms to reach for her. She stepped back. 

 

“He doesn’t get to call me names. He doesn’t...we’re supposed to be family. He’s not allowed...” Erica shuddered out a sob and walked to the driver’s side of the jeep. “Fuck you, Derek.” She started the Jeep reversed toward Derek as if she was going to hit him. She stopped just short of doing so and then sped away, tires tossing rocks and dirt at his feet.


	3. Blankets make good fall-out shelters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is trying really hard. He thought for some reason being pack dad would be easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to be really busy next month so I'm trying to get as far on this as I can. I have up to chapter 5 so far. 
> 
> Feed back is welcome. I could use all the motivation. Yes all of it. I could probably sit under a waterfall of motivation and only drink in a fraction.
> 
> Also, Formatting? What and How? I did get my italics to work this time so that's nice.

 

Derek stood in stunned silence listening to the Jeep get farther and farther away. He only looked up when he saw Cora standing on the porch. 

She walked slowly toward him. “I heard all that.” She slowed and circled around him. “I know that hurt so I’m going to extra gentle, but you  _ will _ hear me.” Cora stopped. “You can’t let that be the only punishment for Jackson. Taking a lap is reward for him.” Cora was practically leaning on Derek she was so close. 

“I know.” Derek could barely make his voice work.

Cora shoved at Derek with her shoulder “He gets away with too much.” She pushed again. 

“I’ll talk to him.” Derek didn’t push back but widened his stance and didn’t allow her to move him. 

“He’s isn’t just being a brat, it’s damaging. You can’t let him talk like that.” Cora waited for Derek to look her in the eye. “This isn’t kindness you’re showing him.” 

“He’s never seen it. It takes time.” Derek held her gaze “He doesn’t mean it. His heart skipped when he said it.” 

Cora shook her head. “We didn’t hear his heart, we heard his words and what he said, intentionally, was shitty. Really shitty.”

Derek nodded. “I know.”

“Jackson was given freedom and allowance and responded with cruelty. Isaac was shown cruelty and responded with compassion.” Cora finally looked down. “Jackson needs you to be less subtle and more verbal. He’s had a lifetime of hands-off parenting and look where he is. He needs to really know where he stands here.” 

“Who raised you? Did you get all this from watching Oprah?” Derek teased. He wasn’t as good at breaking tension with humor as his dad was.  

“I read.” Cora smiled. “I also had a great mentor.” She wrapped her arms around Derek and waited for him to return her hug. “Dr. Phil. Do you know him?” 

Derek laughed quietly and finally wrapped his arms around Cora only to then kick her feet out from under her and wrestle her to the ground. “I hate that jackass.” 

Cora laughed and reversed his momentum until he was pinned against the dirt. She had his arm twisted behind him and a knee on his shoulder. She was sure if he tried, he could throw her off but he let her grind his cheek into a pinecone. He went limp. “I fucked up.” Cora let the choke hold become and embrace. “I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, I know.” Cora scolded. “This is not going to be easy to fix but we can fix it.”  

They both knew Jackson was back and waiting on the edge of the clearing. 

 

Malia and Isaac were wrapped around each other on the couch, the quilt Stiles used covering them like a tent. Malia was on her back, Isaac curled next to her with his head on her chest while she twirled curls into his hair and distracted him from family infighting. He was almost all human and only growling a bit, like a purr. Months ago he would have been in the basement or under a bed in an uncontrolled full-wolf shift.

Malia grew up with her mom in Oregon. She only found Derek when she turned eighteen and was given her dad’s information. 

Her dad? Peter Hale. She had known the name Hale but thought, for most of her childhood, that he had been killed in the fire. At eighteen she learned that he spent years in a coma, recovered (with some residual paranoia) and was now living near the family home in Beacon Hills. Since coming to visit for a gap year, she learned that he is difficult on a good day and terrifying the rest of the time. 

When Malia showed up on the doorstep in early January, Derek and Cora didn’t speak for long uncomfortable minutes. 

_ “You see her, right?” Cora’s voice shook as she reached forward to touch Malia _

_ “Laura?” Derek knew it wasn’t. She was different enough but he hoped. Somewhere in his guts he hoped that Laura had escaped the fire and lived.  _

_ “My name is Malia Tate, I’m looking for Peter Hale.”  _

_ “She looks just like her.” Cora whispered. _

_ Malia glanced between the siblings. Cora was slack jawed and teary. “Um. You’re Derek. Right?” She pointed at the large scowling man. “I guess we’re cousins. My bio-dad is Peter Hale.”  _

_ “Peter!?” Cora cocked her head to the side and realized that the coloring was right. Her eyes matched, the shape of her mouth was his. She sighed out a gentle laugh. “Of course he is.”  _

_ Derek crowded into her space huffing full breaths of her scent. “Yes. But you aren’t wolf.”  _

_ “No. My mother is Woyote. Her family is from Battle Mountain, Nevada. I got the coyote side. I grew up in Klamath Falls.” Malia stood still but defensive. Derek was trying to get her to submit to his authority but she had her own Alpha. “Oregon.”  _

_ “Peter isn’t around.” Cora was trembling with excitement. This person smelled like family and looked like her sister. She waited for Derek to finish his assessment. “He has been skulking around but we haven’t spoken since....Christmas.”  _

_ “He’s been living in town.” Derek said it as if he were doing something untoward. He circled Malia again. She was confident and polite. She didn’t flinch when he was at her back. She was strong willed. Definitely Peter’s daughter.   _

_ “Derek, come on! I wanna hug her.” Cora bounced on her toes _

_ “Would you like to come in?” Derek stood close but didn’t touch.  _

_ “Yes.” Malia finally lifted her chin enough to indicate acquiescence. She reached her hand to Derek in invitation. Derek took it gently and lifted it to his cheek. He scruffed along her wrist. “You don’t have to be so formal. We’re family.” Malia shoved into his space, wrapping her arms around him and rubbing her neck all along his shoulder.  _

_ Cora dove toward them, sandwiching Malia and rubbing her face in her hair, squeaking out an occasional whine.  _

Malia told her mother she was going to stay for a while before going back to college. She hadn’t made any plans to leave. She also hadn’t made an effort to convince Derek to let her become official. She liked her casual, uncommitted status. It was the same with her relationship with Isaac. They found comfort in each other but had no obligations. 

Isaac found it easier to show his metaphorical belly to Malia than any of the other packmates. It didn’t change his status to do so. 

Derek being unexperienced as an alpha, was hard on Isaac.  Derek brought him into his pack for well intended reasons. (He was a witness in Isaac’s abuse case.) But he had a very hard time with Isaac’s emotional fragility. It could be seen as calloused and in a literal sense, it was. Derek was also damaged and in time, had covered it. Protected himself with his rough manners.  

Isaac whined when he heard Erica shouting at Derek outside. 

“Did you go to school with Stiles?’ Malia jostled Isaac’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t really know her well. She was friends with Scott. He and I were on the Lacrosse team together, but we didn’t talk much.” 

Malia hummed her interest and waited for him to continue.

“I didn’t talk to many people in school.” Isaac hadn’t explained his history to Malia. He suspected Cora had told her enough. “She did give me a piece of paper in class once when I didn’t have my stuff. She’s drawn stick figure of our teacher on it.”  Isaac laughed to himself remembering. “It was our chemistry teacher drinking boric acid. Mr. Harris always brought his coffee into the lab when the rules stated no food or drinks. Stiles called him on it and she got detention.”  Harris then used the strictest lab rules to punish Stiles, sending her home because her shoes were ‘porous’ or wearing nylon or synthetic fiber clothes. Stiles then showed up on lab days in tyvek overalls. 

Malia sighed in to Isaac’s hair. 

The shouting was too much and Isaac whined again. Malia patted him on the back. “Let’s go upstairs, I’ll play some music.” 


	4. Sleepovers and scolding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erica has some ideas about how to help Stiles. Derek lays down the law with Jackson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rushing out chapter four because I these chapters are small. 
> 
> It's the day before November. I'm not making excuses but I am trying to prepare my brain for NaNoWriMo. 
> 
> I can write two things at the same time, right? (who am I kidding.) 
> 
> It's feast or famine with my writing. Just a head's up.

Chapter Four 

Stiles unlocked the front door. Her hands only shaking a bit. Erica hovered. “I’m fine, really.” Stiles muttered. 

“Well next movie night is going to be at your house.” Erica followed Stiles through the dimly lit house. “We can have a Harry Potter marathon and dress in costumes like your eleventh birthday party.” Erica dodged ahead and shoulder checked the bedroom door open. “I think I still have my wand and robes.” 

Stiles smiled. It was a legendary party. Twenty grade schoolers in various quests at stations set in the back yard. It culminated with an epic quidditch match where Scott managed to bat the quaffle into goal with the end of his broom with lacrosse move. It then took thirty minutes to get Little Lindi, who was dressed in a golden jumpsuit,  down from the tree she climbed. 

“The best part of that party was your mom in character as  Sybill Trelawney the whole day.” Erica laughed. “Her accent was perfect.” 

“She use to have BBC radio on all the time.” Stiles loved stupid kitchen radio that somehow went missing after her mom died. 

Erica took off her jacket and shoes. “I’m sleeping over, bee tee dubs.” 

“Yeah, I assumed.”  Stiles smiled and tossed some jammies to her. “When you told Derek as much.” 

“I tried to keep that quiet. How much did you hear?” Erica had dried her tears on the drive but still had smears of mascara around her big brown eyes. 

“All of it.” Stiles smiled softly. “Good work.” She turned her back and changed into her own pajamas. 

Erica changed as well. They let the silence be for a bit. 

“Bathroom is this way.” Stiles led the way. “I have a new toothbrush you can have.” She pulled a package from a drawer that had a dozen toothbrushes in it. “My dad loves Costco.” She let Erica pick one. They stood side by side and brushed teeth and washed off the remains of makeup. 

Stiles left Erica to use the toilet while she went back to the bedroom. She started her bedtime playlist on the alarm/speaker/charger. She heard rustling in the yard. Stiles turned the volume up. 

“Can I sleep in the bed?’ Erica didn’t see that Stiles had prepared any other space for her. 

“Yeah, or the couch if you want.” 

“Here’s good.” Erica jumped onto the bed. 

“I’ll warn you, I have nightmares. Often. I haven’t been screaming as much lately. It was going to kill my dad. My subconscious wants him alive too.”  Stiles wondered how it would be with someone else in the bed with her. Lydia had slept over a few times after ‘The Evil Eviction’. (Although she may not have slept, per say. She may have spent the night making sure Stiles didn’t die from the beating she took while they banished Legion to the netherworld.)

“You should get a therapy dog.” Erica wiggled down into the softness of the bed. Her face only inches from Stiles. 

“Did you ever get the therapy dog you wanted?” Stiles remembered the fund raising jar on the counter at the grocery store with Erica’s picture. 

“No. We were on a waiting list for a while.” Erica shrugged. “I don’t need one now. I’m mostly cured. New meds.” She looked at the ceiling. Stiles thought it was weird to lie about something like that. Health issues are personal so she let it slide. 

“How long is the wait?” Stiles thought about some of the therapy dogs they brought into the Eichen House neurology center. Of the four they had on rotation, only one would come near her. His name was Ezer. Legion would hide whenever Ezer was around which gave Stiles a chance to sit on the floor and let a large toothless pitbull drool on her shoulder. If she could get a dog like Ezer, she would in a heartbeat. 

“I might be able to help. I volunteer at the the training center.” Erica smiled mischievously. “There are two kids right now that are waiting on small dogs. If you are willing to take a larger breed, Poldi will finish training next. He’s a boxer/lab mix. He’s dark auburn with hints of brindle. Sweet, and soft faced. Almost lazy but he’s first on alert with seizures and nonverbal autistic children in distress.”

“Poldi?” Stiles laughed. “Are you mocking my polish heritage?” 

“It’s short for Leopold. He has a full name of Leopold Hartmut Werner.” Erica shrugged. 

“Bit pretentious for a dog.” Stiles rolled her eyes. 

“Come meet him this week. I’ll be at the place on Wednesday.” Erica grinned with excitement. 

“I’ll talk to my dad. He has been against the idea of dogs in the house since the retired police dog incident.” Stiles then had to explain to Erica about the time they had to take care Lola. Lola ate three steaks at Child Stiles’ urging, then barfed on her dad’s favorite sweater. Then ate it. The barf, and the sweater. Then barfed again. It became a cycle of vomit from which nobody escaped. 

Stiles talked until Erica fell asleep mid-sentence thus successfully avoiding the topic of Derek and the whole Jackson debacle. Until the next day. 

While having toasted waffles and milky coffee, Erica told Stiles about every crappy thing Jackson had ever done or said. Stiles shared her sympathy but kept her knowledge of Jackson to herself. He was a sad damaged lovesick baby who was too spoiled to know what was good for him. She actually felt bad for him most of the time. He somehow knew that, so at every chance, he would do or say something to remove pity from the situation. It’s easier to have someone hate you than pity you. 

Jackson skulked back to the house. Stiles’ crappy Jeep was gone. For the best really. Derek was inside, waiting. Jackson would have left without going inside but didn’t have car keys. 

“Fuck me.” Jackson trudged up the stairs. 

Derek was cleaning up the kitchen while Cora, Malia and Isaac were upstairs in the bedrooms. 

“I know.” Jackson preempted his scolding, grabbed glass of water from the sink and turned around.

“I don’t think you do.” Derek blocked his path.

Jackson stood stock still. Derek was very physical with him when they were training but hadn’t used physical force outside of those situations. 

“Why are you in my pack?” Derek waited for a reply. “What did you think you were asking when you came to me?” 

Jackson didn’t know how to answer that. “I don’t know.” 

He had been drawn to the Hale house for years. Would skulk around when it was abandoned. He mourned the family like the rest of the town did but felt more lost than he ever had before. 

It was after that when he started asking questions about his blue eyes vs his parents’ brown. He knew something was off  in his family. He found out the story of how he was adopted. It didn’t make him feel better to know his birth parents died in a tragic car accident. He did have someplace to put the mourning he was consumed with.

Derek unfolded his arms, looking less like he wanted to hit someone. “I welcomed you. I’m not sure what your connection to the family is, but you feel it just like I do.” Derek took a step forward. “You have a place here. But it is not without a price.” 

“Yeah?” Jackson looked on defiantly. He could pay. He paid for almost all of his friends. That was easy. 

“You aren’t allowed to be abusive. I don’t know what sort of shit you say to your other friends but here, in my house, you will respect everyone.” 

“Please,” Jackson rolled his eyes.  “that wasn’t abusive. I was kidding around and you know it. Some people are oversensitive freaks.” He was nothing if not defensive. 

“No. What you said was way out of line. Stiles was drowning in terror and you mocked her for it.” Derek pounded a fist on the counter. “And the shit you said to Erica?” Derek took a deep breath to reign in his frustration.

“You don’t know her. Stiles ruined my life and I wasn’t prepared to sit here and pretend.”

“From what I understand, she was being controlled by someone else last year and she is not responsible for that.” 

“It was before.” Jackson snarled. “She turned Lydia against me.” His eyes welling with tears and his stomach burning. He didn’t want to talk about this now or ever. 

“I thought you left Lydia for that dark haired girl in the archery club?” Derek had only heard about that because Cora mentioned her. 

“I didn’t.” Jackson wasn’t sure what he had done. “I talked to her a few times and then it got back to Lydia.” 

“And that was Stiles’ fault?” 

“Lydia didn’t care, She was happy with how we had things until Stiles started hanging around and suddenly Lydia didn’t have time for me anymore.” 

“So, you wanted to hang out with this other girl and have Lydia in the bank and somehow that’s Stiles’ fault?” Derek pushed Jackson to say what he needed to say.

“Yes.” Jackson pouted. 

“So you decided because you don’t get everything you want that you have the authority to wound at will? Do you even hear yourself?” Derek pinned Jackson in the corner of the kitchen, getting more in his space. “You, a fit rich white boy with a trust fund and choice of cars and clothes, decided that mocking the child of a public servant, who spent last year in a hospital and now suffers in fear and isolation. You think that’s right?” Derek was on the edge of shouting. 

Jackson cowered. “No”

“I welcomed Erica into my pack just like you. She is loved and valued here, just as you are and she will have a safe place. If you can’t respect that,” Derek hesitated. “then you will be asked to leave.”

Jackson said nothing but tears escaped his eyes. 

“You’re better than this.” Derek put his hand on Jackson’s shoulder, sliding it up to the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t have given you power, if I didn’t think you were able to handle it.” Derek squeezed the back of Jackson’s neck. “Don’t make me wrong.” 

“Okay.” Jackson’s voice crackled out his answer. 

“You need to make amends to Erica. And she is really mad so you need to think of something really good.” Derek would need to watch that Jackson didn’t just pay money. This would have to be personal.

“I will.” Jackson whispered. 

“And Stiles.” Derek watched as Jackson squirmed at the idea. “Erica was so excited to reconnect her. You need to respect her friends.” 

“Does this mean I can bring people to pack night too?” Jackson really wanted to complain about Stiles invading his space. 

“Sure, You want to bring that Danny guy? He seems cool.” Derek had only met a few of Jackson’s old highschool friends and wasn’t sure he was making friends at college. 

“I’m bringing Matt Dahler next time.” Derek winced. He knew Matt was the creep the girls complained about. 

“He plays by my rules and he can be here.” Derek conceded. 


	5. Monday at the Coffee Cart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is trying to stay out of the drama. Derek is trying. Just trying so hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a quick post of the chapter I have typed up. I have a few more hand written. 
> 
> Also, this was quickly typed and I suck at Enlishing (despite being a native speaker) so forgive the misspellings and punctuation. And formatting. And grammar. 
> 
> I'm avoiding the news today (USA pre-election coverage) and also my NaNoWriMo project to get this out here. I hope there are a few of you who appreciate it. 
> 
> I really want to get in to the meat of this story soon. I actually do have some plot written.

“Monday, Monday. Can’t trust that day.” Stiles sang to herself as she walked across the street. (It was a song her dad would wake her up with to start the week.) She was on her way to the Beacon HIlls main library. 

An annoying problem facing Community College students was that the School had a limited budget and space and was utilizing some of the city’s other facilities for classrooms. This meant that Stiles needed to drive to the library downtown for one class, then rush back to the small campus for another. Monday was the only day she had to factor traffic into the schedule and the worst day for it. Today she overcompensated and was thirty minutes early.

Erica had been watchful and conscientious Friday night and Saturday morning. Her concern waning into protective curiosity. By mid day Saturday, Erica apologized for needing to take care of something and went home. Stiles enjoyed having someone to distract her from her usual mope. It made her feel more normal than she had in weeks. She did love having the rest of the weekend to herself. That didn’t mean that she did her homework earlier, She still stayed up most of the night and regretted it now. 

The large atrium of the newly refurbished library building was all glass and large tropical plants. It looked more like a spa than the musty dark pre-war building she came to as a kid.  It was a great improvement, but she had to consult the map to find her room the first time. 

She slowed as she passed the Kiosk that had the Map on one side and the community board on the other. The figure standing with his back to her caught her attention. Tall, wide shoulders. Wearing a white and light grey check button-down. The pants matched the grey perfectly as did his grey derby shoes. Well put together top to bottom. 

She stopped. His cologne caught her attention. Pepper, spice, leather, and the way the forest smells in the middle of the rainy season. Something really earthy and delicious. She was so distracted, it wasn’t until he turned that Stiles recognized him. 

“Derek?” Stiles juggled her books and phone from her right to her left hand, embarrassed she had just spent several seconds ogling his ass. Stiles flushed with nerves. 

“Hello.” Derek turned toward her. She squirmed under his scrutiny; aware she had dressed in her most worn-in jeans and a faded hooded sweatshirt. 

“I’m going to a class.” She wasn’t sure why she needed to explain what she was doing there but it was better than her instinct to apologize for being the catalyst that caused a rift between his friends. 

“Okay.” He seemed just as disinterested in discussing Friday night. 

“I gotta go...” Stiles pointed toward the coffee cart (Her favorite part of the new Destination Library. Her father had plenty to say about the idiocy of the rebranding. ‘People don’t accidentally go to the library. It’s always been a destination’.) 

“Yeah.” Derek snatched a flier off the board, folded it and put it in his pocket. 

Stiles slouched down into her hoodie and scuffed off to the coffee cart, embarrassed that she even stopped. “You gave me no warning of what was to be...” She mumble/hummed to herself as she ducked into the line of fellow patrons.

“I owe you an...” 

“Oh, my god!” Stiles almost threw her phone as Derek appeared at her side.

Derek waited as Stiles fumbled and caught her device. 

Stiles moved a step forward in the line and decided not to look at Derek. Embarrassed that she had imagined him naked before she knew who he was. 

“Apology.” Derek said the word as if that alone was all that was necessary to accomplish the thing. 

“Right, Okay well, that’s something.” Stiles tapped at her phone as if she was doing something really important. She wasn’t. 

Derek didn’t say anything more but continued to stand next to her as if they were friends. 

“No line jumps.” The person behind her protested.  

Derek stared down the speaker, who mumbled something about it being ‘okay, just this once.’

Stiles considered turning around and explaining that Derek was not with her but chose instead to pull her hood up and ignore everything else happening until she was standing at the barista who was waiting for her order. 

“Giant coffee with vanilla and cream.” Stiles nervously looked to Derek. “He’s not with me.” She asserted. 

“Oh Hi, Derek.” The barista lit up like she was five and just saw Santa. 

“Put her coffee on my tab” Derek jerked a thumb toward Stiles. Stiles sputtered her disagreement. 

The girl flitted a contemptuous glance Stiles and continued her eye fluttering at Derek.  “Do you want the usual?”

“He jumped the line, so he has to wait.” Stiles sneered at Derek. 

“I don’t want anything today, thanks, Rachel.” Derek turned a charming smile on the poor girl trying to flirt while standing behind a stack of dry bagels. “I just wanted to buy her coffee.” Derek nodded toward Stiles making brief eye contact. 

“I appreciate the thought but I can get my own coffee.” Stiles slid her money across the bar. 

“I insist.” Derek tried the same stare he used on the person behind her. 

“I reject.” Stiles returned the same threatening glower. 

Derek leaned in close and whispered “I talked to Erica and to Jackson. This is just...” He huffed in frustration “a start.” 

“You can start stepping away from me.” Stiles lifted an elbow to ensure her space. 

Derek took a step back, looking hurt and angry. He kept his eyes on Stiles. 

“I’m not involved.” Stiles tapped on her cash again, waiting for Rachel to take it. “This is between you and Erica.” 

“I need to apologize for my...Jackson was wrong to say...I should have been clear.”  Derek leaned toward her again as he stumbled over an explanation.

“Jackson needs to apologize for himself.” Stiles interrupted as she took the coffee and walked away from the cart, leaving her ten dollar bill without getting change. (She would have tipped well but not that well.) “And not to me. To Erica.” 

Derek followed her across the atrium. “I’m sorry for my part.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t say anything.” Stiles continued walking. “And I honestly don’t care what Jackson thinks of me. Really. I know who he is.” Stiles stopped at the bottom of the stairway that led to her classroom. She sipped her coffee just enough that her shaking hand didn’t spill it. 

“He is sorry.” Derek kept his distance now, seeing that he was making he nervous. “And I am too.”

“It’s really unnecessary.” Stiles could see Erica separately and avoid Jackson entirely.  He might try to apologize but Stiles didn't have hopes of that ending well. Plus afterward, he might want to talk about Lydia and she really didn’t want to do that. “I’m not hurt. It’s the least of my problems honestly.”  

Derek stubbornly stood there, not giving a convenient dismissal to the conversation. “I don’t want this to be an issue in the future.” 

“It won’t be. I’ve ducked him for years. I’ll add your house to the locations to avoid. Problem solved.” Stiles turned to go. 

“I don’t want that.” Derek almost shouted. “Erica...doesn’t want that.” 

“I can see Erica without going to your house.” Stiles checked her phone for the time. “I’m gonna be late.” She wasn’t, but she was finished with this conversation. 

“Okay.” He turned and stomped across the room, the rap of Italian leather shoes echoing through the space.

Stiles was struck with the contrast between Derek in comfortable clothes and bare feet on Friday vs this pressed, pristinely dressed, decidedly not casual business man. Stiles didn’t know nearly enough about this man. Clearly she would need to do some research. 

She carefully walked to her class which didn’t start for another fifteen minutes. She used that time to snoop through some of the many city databases she had passwords for. By the time her professor rushed in, she had quite an interesting list. 

  1. Derek Hale owned more acreage in Beacon Hills proper and the surrounding forest than anyone else. 
  2. He was listed as the manager for the Trinity Nature Preserve which surrounded his land, and extended to the coast. 
  3. He was given a key to the city when he returned from college, rebuilt his family home and donated a huge chunk of money used to refurbish the city offices and Library Square. 
  4. Derek Hale was listed as the foster parent for Isaac Lahey, Liam Dunbar, and Danielle Rhodes. Isaac and Danielle have since aged out of the system but Liam was still seventeen. 
  5. Someone named Chris Argent had applied for a permit to put a wild wolf sanctuary on the state preserve, right up against Hale family land. (Coincidentally, Chris was also the brother of the woman who befriended his older sister, Laura, got herself invited for a weekend sleepover and then set fire to the home, killing most of Hale family. Kate Argent was then sentenced for eleven counts of murder.)



Stiles didn't hear anything from the class she attended and instead spent the class mulling over Derek.

~~~

 


	6. Art Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erica is an assistant for the art teacher at the community college. Someone comes to help out with her favorite class. The class is filled with some familiar characters and lots of OC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a seizure here. It's an OC. I've handled it with care. I have witnessed friends have seizures before. It's nerve wracking and scary for everyone. 
> 
> There is healing. 
> 
> Also, I crossed the 1000 hit and the 50 kudos mark. For me, Huge Success. 
> 
> I'll keep going. We still have to get to the good stuff.

Erica set up for her afternoon pottery class; a class she didn’t take but assisted with. She and her instructor, Chita, hosted a private school group who come to explore tactile art therapy, (Erica’s idea) and was making breakthroughs with several autistic students. (It also helped Erica make a choice to change her major from Art to Psychology and Human Development.)

Chita struggled through kneading the clay used for the ceramics. Chita, one of the few who knew Erica’s history with epilepsy, supported the idea of the class from the beginning. Her flamboyant style matched well with Erica’s; they looked almost like mother and daughter. 

“This clay is being stubborn today. It’s as tough as my mother-in-law’s pasta dough, and probably tastes better.” Chita cut through the large ball of clay with a wire and then slammed the piece down on the board, trying to get all the air out it. 

The doors swung open and a noisy progression of kids spilled in. 

“Meredith, Hi.” Erica waved to the group leader. 

“We have extra help today.” Meredith glared at a figure standing at the back of the procession. 

“Jackson?” Erica scowled. “What are you doing here?’ 

“I had to fill out three packets and watch hours of videos to qualify for this.”  He grumbled as if he were blaming Erica for his predicament. 

“Nobody asked you to help.” Meredith whispered. 

“Why?” Erica stood between Jackson and the rest of the group. He watched over her shoulder as the kids found places at the tables and wheels. 

“You told Liam he could help with your class.” Jackson crossed his arms. 

“That’s because Liam is a peer counselor.” 

“Well, I want to help you.” 

“Did Derek make you do this?” Erica pushed Jackson out into the hallway so that the kids couldn’t hear them. 

“No” Jackson huffed. “Don’t tell him I’m here, either.” 

“Is this your idea of an apology?” Erica almost smiled. 

“I’m...” Jackson couldn’t say the words. “Just let me be here. I’ll stay out of the way.” 

“Okay.” Erica sighed. “Go take over for Chita. Do something with your muscles besides oil them in the mirror.” 

“Fine.” Jackson followed Erica back into the room and wandered over to where Chita was kneading. He listened to instructions for a bit then took over. 

Meredith and Erica worked their way around the room giving several kids tools and supplies. Hayden, the peer counselor who was dating Liam, lined chalk, pencils and crayons on one table where the younger kids were working. 

“Sid, do you want to draw or sculpt today?” Erica herded the eight year old back toward the tables. He didn’t answer, He didn’t say much. Ever. He was watching Jackson with interest. 

“He’s chosen drawing every time.” Hayden slid a chair out at the drawing table, expecting Sid to join them. 

He pointed at Jackson. 

“That’s Jackson.” Erica took Sid’s hand. “He’s getting all of the air bubbles out of more clay so that we can make something. Do you want to sit at the sculpting table?” Sid hesitated but did take a seat. “There is some here you can use.” Erica handed Sid a chunk of workable clay. Sid threw it hard at the table just like Jackson did. It landed in a satisfying thunk. 

The class settled into a rhythm and clatter as the kids worked on their various projects. Catina, Mark, Artemis and Noah worked at the clay table. Catina was sculpting a large shape that looked like an octopus/horse, Mark and Artemis each had coils stacked in the process of making vessels of some sort, Noah had a slab on which he was drawing cryptic figures, and Sid continued to mimic every move Jackson did. 

Marty, Eve, Patrick and Alex each had a rainbow of color on their papers. They were all between eight and ten and were drawing similar scenes of trees, people and sky. Lugu, being sixteen, was the only one who worked with the paints. He was away from the group and splattering a huge canvas with thick blue tempera. 

“Start counting.” Patrick, who also seldom spoke, was now tapping a steady beat on the table. 

Sid got up from his chair and rushed over to Jackson’s side. He stood stock-still. Chita turned to check on him when Patrick started whining. Erica looked around the room. The energy in the room changed.  Catina had stopped moving, her eyes unfocused and she had fisted grip on the carving tool. 

Erica was at Catina’s side quickly. “It’s okay. I’m here.” She pulled back her chair as the other kids scattered, giving space. 

Meredith took off her sweater and balled it up as they lay Catina on the floor. She wasn’t shaking or jerking in a typical seizure. She was simply frozen. Hayden helped the other kids to stay calm and stand back. 

“It’s bad.” Patrick lay his head on the table. He continued to tap. 

Catina groaned. Meredith tried getting the carving tool from her hand. It was a small loop of flattened wire. It couldn’t stab but could still cut. She was holding onto Catina’s hand when it started jerking. 

“Catina, we’re here for you. It’s going to be okay.” Erica stayed close, made sure she didn’t hurt herself. 

“One minutes.” Lugu had his phone out with a timer going. 

Hayden blinked back tears. She had Marty at one side and Eve on her other. “It’s okay. She’s going to be okay.” 

Meredith set the tool on the table, It had a bit of blood on it. She held her hand over the cut on her arm. 

Jackson knelt next to Sid. Sid had his eyes closed tight. “Does she do this all the time?” Jackson’s voice more concerned than he had intended. 

“It’s been months since she had one.” Meredith didn’t look away from Catina’s face which looked like she was in terrible pain. 

Erica made soothing noises, hovered close as Catina seized beside her. 

“Two minutes.” Everyone in the room heard the concern in Lugu’s voice. They all kept still and waited. 

“I’m calling her mom.” Hayden pulled out her phone and spoke softly, giving directions to the classroom. 

“Three minutes.” Lugu announced. 

“Should we call an ambulance?” Jackson stood and had Sid in his arms, whimpering into his shoulder. 

“Not unless it lasts more than five minutes.” Erica huffed out a frustrated breath.

Catina slowed her tremors and sighed out a long groan. She blinked several times before coming around to a level of consciousness. 

“I have a couch in my office.” Chita took one side of Catina and Erica the other and they moved through the room to the back office. 

“Her mother lives close by. She’ll be here soon.” Hayden comforted the kids around her and directed them to the chairs. 

“Thank you for your help, Lugu.” Meredith patted his shoulder. He put his phone back in his pocket. 

The room was quiet for a few more seconds. 

“Can I get a new paper?” Eve put aside drawing. 

“Me too.” Alex and Marty spoke in unison. 

Hayden helped them start a new project as they chatted about making something for Catina. The other kids slowly returned attention to their work. 

Jackson stood with Sid clinging to him like a monkey, not sure what to do next. He watched  Meredith walk to the sink, wash the small cut on her arm and wrap a paper towel around it. He saw that there was a first aid kit mounted on the wall. 

“Hey buddy, can you sit down for a bit.” He put a reluctant Sid in his chair. 

Meredith held the paper to her arm and wouldn’t even look at Jackson as he opened the kit and looked for something to put on the still bleeding cut. “I can do this myself.” Meredith softly protested his assistance. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Jackson whispered. 

“You could” Meredith flinched as Jackson reached out to her. 

“I wouldn’t” Jackson kept his head down. “I won’t.” He held out the bandage if she wanted to take it. 

“Hurt creatures are the most dangerous.” Meredith took the bandage and put it over her cut with her left hand. 

“You’re the one that’s hurt, what do you mean?” Jackson replied as if insulted. 

“I’m scratched.” Meredith finally met Jackson’s eyes. “You  _ are _ hurt. Deep. In your bones. In your soul.”  She then scurried away. 

Jackson stood in shock as he processed what she said. 

Erica brushed the tears away from Catina’s cheeks as Chita helped her with a change of clothes. Chita kept several outfits in her office, art gets messy. 

“Your mom is on her way.” Erica comforted. Catina cried softly. 

“I’m going to check on the class.” Chita gave Catina gentle pat as she smiled at Erica.

Erica could help her with some of the pain but wouldn’t do it if someone was watching. When the door clicked closed, Catina sighed with relief and Erica cooed. The aches in Erica’s muscles and bones mimicked the pain Catina was feeling. Cramping aches all through her body, sharp twinges in her hands and feet, pounding in her head. It was familiar. She remembered how hard it is on a human body. She knew she had made the right choice for herself. A choice not available to everyone. She traded side effects but still had them. 

Catina drifted into a sleep like state as they waited for her mom. She would probably be exhausted for the rest of the day and may not fully recover for a few more. 

Sid was out of his seat again. Leaning against Jackson where he stood. Hayden reached out to the small boy. “Sid, Catina is going to be okay. You don’t have to worry.” Sid took Jackson’s hand and dragged him to the sculpting table. Jackson followed. They both sat at the table and Sid broke his clay into two pieces, handing one to Jackson. They both rolled the clay into long snakes. Jackson dividing his into thirds as he made a Triquetra. Sid watched his every move and made one of his own. 

The chimes of the hourly alarm seemed unnaturally loud. They signaled the end of the class. Meredith and Hayden helped the kids put their work in their lockers, wrapping unfinished clay in plastic. Lugu wrapped Catina’s octo-stallion carefully and gave it to Chita to put away safely. 

Catina’s mom would her daughter home so there would be one less on the bus back to school. Jackson wasn’t sure what to do with himself as he waited for the last of the kids to line up. 

Erica bumped a shoulder into him as he waited. “You made a friend.” She smiled down at Sid who was standing at Jackson’s side. 

“Yeah.” Jackson smiled at the kid as well. 

“Sid’s super picky when it comes to friends so it’s a privilege.” Erica’s tone had weight to it. 

Jackson smiled his smarmy best. He was use to exclusive clubs. Did Erica mean this kid liked him more than her? 

“Don’t ruin it.” Erica tsked. She stood quietly. Jackson noted her scent was filled with pain and fear. He wanted to change it. He resisted the urge to wrap an arm around her and instead held a hand out. 

“She’s going to be okay?” 

Erica put her hand in his. “She will.” She let him feel the fraction of the pain she still carried. He squeezed her hand. “She was really embarrassed. Handsome guy shows up to help with class and then you saw her have one of the worst episodes she’s had in awhile.” Erica looked at him with tears in her eyes. “That sort of thing can stick with a person for years.” 

Jackson almost choked. The burning shame pinched the back of his throat and he held his breath. He had been dismissive before. He knew Erica’s history but hadn’t seen it first hand. There was a rumor of a video going around but Jackson didn’t search for it. He thought his friends who wanted to see a girl pee herself had a kink he didn’t share. 

Fear radiated from the kids in the room, kids that knew this could turn into a medical emergency in a matter of minutes, kids that experienced this themselves. Jackson turned to Erica. “I’m sorry.” He whispered past the quiver in his voice. “I’m so sorry.” 

Erica dropped his hand and moved into a hug. “I know.” She nuzzled into his neck, sighed out her own shuddering breath. 

Meredith ushered the kids out the door. Sid pulled at Jackson to move forward. 

Erica let go as Jackson moved away. “Same time next week?” 

Jackson nodded subtly. Smiled briefly and disappeared down the hall with the rest of the kids. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a really crappy week. The election in the US basically ruined all motivation I had before. 
> 
> It was also the second anniversary of my brother's suicide. I spent a lot of time in the fetal position, crying. 
> 
> I had most of this typed up before but hadn't finished it. I needed to be able to heal something, fix something. I guess that's what writing is for. We can make the world we wish we lived in.


	7. Blackwing and Taco Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boyd and Stiles cross paths at the campus bookstore. There is attempted flirting and awkward advances. 
> 
> POV changes several times. If you've read my stuff, you know I do this. I hope it isn't confusing. I tried to put a ~ between each POV change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This is slow going. 
> 
> I have to admit that I love this world and have abandoned my nanowrimo project to write this. (Mostly because I can't add the stress of a complicated painful story to what is now the 2nd Worst November Ever.)
> 
> I'm going to post this and then get going on the next chapter right away.

Vernon Boyd checked his list again. He’d gotten a email that the textbook he needed was finally in. He could have bought the new one if he had the money but he was going to wait until someone dropped the class and returned a book.

He found the pens he wanted and had several packages of gum for his little sister. She liked the Swedish fish flavor which he had only found at the student book store. He was considering getting her a set of drawing pencils too when something caught his attention.

It was the funny girl he saw last week at the kiosk. She was standing at the display of Japanese Calligraphy sets. One of them opened and available to play with. She dropped her backpack off of her shoulder and onto the floor. She was dressed in faded jeans that clung to her legs and looked soft; like they had been washed a lot.

Her sweatshirt was too big for her and the neck of it had a small v cut in the front; it was frayed and worn. The strings looked to have been shredded and knotted several times. This was a shirt that had been adjusted to fit someone uncomfortable with holding still.  There were several items in the kangaroo pocket. It pulled the fabric down against her small breasts. It didn’t appear she was wearing a bra. Her shape was soft and slightly angular instead of the high round breasts of someone wearing an underwire.

Boyd flinched. He knew better than to linger on thoughts like that about someone he hardly knew. If his mother or sisters had seen him staring at a girl’s chest like that, he would have a handprint on the back of his head.

He backed farther away. What was her name again? It was something different. Something he hadn’t heard before and should have written down. Started with an S.

He moved down the next aisle. The bookshelves were tall enough that most people couldn’t see over them. He was tall. Six foot four inches. He picked up a book of french poetry and pretended to read it while he watched the back of the girl’s head. Her hair grew in tiny whorls on the nape of her neck. It looked like she was growing out an undercut. Some of it was really short in a small grid pattern. He wondered what it smelled like.

~

Stiles needed a new Palomino Blackwing 602. Well, technically she only needed a new eraser but they didn’t sell just the erasers unless she wanted to order some. She should really do that. It was much cheaper. It would be almost four dollars. “For a pencil?” She heard her father’s voice protest in her head. She was aware. She was one of those hipster pencil snobs now.

She blamed Legion. Apparently this brand made a classic pencil with Japanese graphite.  That asshole had been particular about random items from the start. (Socks were all inferior to whatever handmade silk stockings he had been familiar with. Clothing was overly scented with products to hide inadequate washing done by modern machines. Food was bland and tasted of chemicals. Guns were crass, noisy and inexact. This he came to discover when Stiles was shot in the leg and lived. What Legion didn’t understand was that the Sheriff’s department never intended to kill.) Stiles shook off the memory of waking up in a hospital with her frantic father at her side.

Her mind still stuck on the disappointed scowl her dad would have given her if he knew she was about to spend money on a pencil when he had a drawer full of “Vote for Sheriff Stilinski” pencils. Stiles took another deep breath.

Somebody in the bookstore smelled really good. Like tangerine and clove; sea salt and...cucumber? No bitter melon. The mystery man, _(yes, she could tell it was a man. Don’t ask her how. The details were not something nice girls discussed.)_ was not in her line of site and she had prize to seek. The perfect pencil, the Palomino Blackwing,on the aisle with the art supplies.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Erica texted with an invitation to meet at the Pheenie Beanie’s Coffee and Tea tonight. She responded with enthusiasm. Well, with a somewhat enthusiastic looking emoji. She didn’t have class for an hour and she was already jittery from her second dose of adderall. She would have the decaf almond cream tea that Erica raved about.

She dropped the phone into her pocket and walked down the art aisle. There was a Japanese Calligraphy set all open and waiting for someone to use. Legion would have probably overturned the whole display and ranted about horrible it was to bastardize an artform and market it to peasants. Mostly he would have used that as justification for destruction.  Instead, Stiles dipped the small brush in the inkwell and tested it against the heavy page on the open book next to it.

She drew several symbols from the display of Japanese symbols. The brush was a mix of synthetic bristles instead of natural hair. It didn’t compare to a wolf’s hair brush she was somehow familiar with even though the sense memory wasn’t her own. She let her had draw what it wanted. It looked like a dragon but was still the words meaning capitalism.

The instinct to allow some of her own subversion out was too much. She let her hand draw the symbols in cursive and semi-cursive style. Her thoughts made into symbols her subconscious knew better than she did. She wavered between giggling and blushing. She punctuated the poem with the symbol for love copied from the page.

She knew she was being watched. She could sense it. She thought maybe it was the clerk making sure someone didn’t abscond with the brushes. She politely put it back and moved on to the section where she would find what she came for.

~

Boyd watched as the girl filled the page. She either knew the language or was really fast at using the limited vocabulary on the suggestion sheet. He could see the back of her neck blush pink. He moved slightly down the aisle so he could see the side of her face. She smirked mischievously. It was adorable.

She finished her work. Checked her surroundings as if to duck away, unseen, and nonchalantly moved toward the front of the store.

Boyd timed it so that she in line for the register and he stepped in behind her.

“Hello again.” He stood close but tried not to tower over her.

“Wow, Hi.” She smiled back. “Are you taller?”

“You’re shorter.” He grinned back.

“I’m am not!” She sassed back.

“You are. You had boots on before.” He remembered her boots. They were knee high and paired with knit tights and a short wool skirt.

She blushed. “Oh, yeah.” 

“Boyd, right?” She pointed at him with her silver pencil wrapped in crinkly plastic.

“Yeah.” He was going to embarrass himself now.

“Stiles. I’m sure you remember. It’s a weird thing to be called. Not many people forget.” She spun the pencil between her fingers.

“Right Stylish Stiles.” He looked her up and down. She was wearing ratty old Vans and the hem of her pants were just above her ankle and not artificially distressed, they were worn like they, at one point, dragged the ground before her legs grew.

“That’s not why.” Stiles turned her back to him. He suspected she’d heard that before and hated it.

He’d lost the flow. The banter died. He fumbled with his books for a bit. They took another step forward. There was a display of locally made cookies. They were all frosted with moon phases on them.

“Would you like a waxing gibbous?” He held out a cookie.

“Wax my what?” Stiles feigned shock.

He spun the cookie upside down. “It’s also waning. If you prefer.”

Stiles laughed and took the cookie. She read the blurb on the brown paper card stuck to the back of the package. “Mmm. Peanut butter cookie with fudge and honey frosting.” She looked pleased.

“I have one every week. They’re amazing.” He picked the new moon cookie. It had all fudge frosting.

“I can’t wait to try it.” Stiles fidgeted. Boyd also fidgeted.

“Do you study Japanese?” Boyd asked before realizing he just exposed his stealthy observation.

“What?” Stiles looked more guilty and nervous than ever. Boyd pointed toward the art section.

“I saw you writing.” He was kicking himself for his awkwardness.

“Oh, that.” Stiles hitched her backpack higher and tugged the hoodie tight around the back of her neck. “It’s gibberish. I was just playing.” She hedged. They both looked toward the topic of discussion as they heard a gasp and several speaking Japanese in a hushed tone. One of them laughed loud and hearty and the other shushed him.

“Really?” Boyd raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Yeah.” Stiles held her lie proud.

 

~

 

Stiles’ heart was pounding with fear of being caught. Someone in the store could read the filthy story she just wrote on the page and she needed to escape. If she were alone, she could have dropped her money on the counter and ran. The road block to that plan was huge. And cute. And standing so close she could feel his warmth on her neck. And he wanted to buy her a cookie.

She really did need to get out of the store. With Boyd. He had seen her write it. If he only knew what she wrote, he would take back the peanut butter moon and probably report her to some sort of authority.*

Her plan now was to play it cool and hope Boyd didn’t tell the group of students (reading sections to each other and laughing) that it was her. They probably wouldn’t believe it anyway. The style of writing was not something often taught. The readers argued over the antiquated style and whether it changed context.

“Calm yourself” she thought. “This isn’t over yet.”

Boyd held his hand out for her cookie so he could pay for it.

Stiles put her lone pencil on the counter along with a five dollar bill.

“That will be four dollars.” The clerk took the bill.

“No, I’m buying her cookie.” Boyd corrected the annoyed man behind the counter.

“Yes. And her pencil is four dollars.” The man’s tone was all judgement.

“It’s a precision instrument.” Stiles took her pencil and held out her hand for her lonely dollar and receipt. “People pay more for a coffee.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever spent more than fifty cents for a wood pencil.”

“It’s not just any wood pencil.” Stiles defended.

“I can’t afford it all” Boyd sang softly. “Can’t afford it all. Can’t afford it all”

Stiles looked curiously at him as he crooned jaunty a melody at her.

“She’s just so adorable.” Boyd punctuated his line with a dropped hip and dance move matched with a pout.

Stiles laughed. “What?”

“Sorry. That’s a song from a friend’s band, Jakubi. They’re from Australia.”

“They’re super obscure. You’ve probably never heard of them.” Stiles mocked while adjusting her invisible glasses.

“Wow. Ouch. And here I was, minutes away from asking you out.” Boyd. Paid for his items. The clerk rolled his eyes at them.

“It’s probably for the best. Really. You should take back your cookie.” Stiles smiled a bit sadly.

“No. I want you to have it.” Boyd refused to take it back.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret spending three dollars on something.”

Boyd liked her. He liked her sass. He liked her ass. He liked her crazy short messy hair, her slouchy sweatshirt and scuffed-up shoes. He loved her mischievous snicker. He wanted to pick her up and take her home with him. He scowled at her with pretend anger.

“I actually can afford to buy you a cookie.”

“Well, why don’t I repay you tomorrow.” Stiles was walking backwards toward the doorway. Boyd reached out and steered her around a young man with his eyes on his phone. Her arms were thin under the bulk of the shirt. “I’ll take you out to the finest three dollar meal in town.”

“What would that be?”

~

“Taco Truck Tuesday” It was a Stilinski family tradition. Food trucks being new to the small town when she was a kid, found the best money was the edge of the Hale Family Sport Park. Especially when little league practice let out. Stiles claimed that taco grease improved her favorite bat and gave the grip a great color. Her dad would just yell at her to clean up her gear before she attracted ants.

“Hale Park?” Boyd lit up. He must have grown up here. She didn’t remember him from school but she had a lot of blank space in her high school memory.

“Yeah. Wanna meet up?” Stiles tried to make it sound super casual. Not a date at all. Just pals, meeting at the park for tacos. No big thing.

“Seven PM?” Boyd pulled his phone out of his pocket. He was going to insist they exchange numbers.

“Yeah.” Stiles almost backed into a bench. Boyd reached out and stopped her again. She could see the Japanese speaking students coming out of the store now. They had ripped out the page from the book and were looking in her direction. “Iguana-Wanna Tacos. They have the best avocado sauce.” Stiles had to go.

~

Boyd unlocked his phone and opened a new text field. “Put your number...” He looked up just as Stiles dodged a girl waving a paper and ran out the side door.

*(It’s probably against the law to write a sex scene between Godzilla and a magically animated Statue of Liberty. It was in the spirit of post war make-up sex between former enemies. The details maybe were more graphic than she originally intended. It may seem freaky because male lizards don’t have rigid external genitalia and would need to improvise. Tails aren’t tentacles. Is that less offensive?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wearejakubi dot com
> 
> jakübi is a real band. I don't know where I found the song. It was Super Random but I thought that Boyd would like them. Sinqua plays guitar and writes poetry and probably would like this band. Maybe?


	8. Pierogi and Posters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets Erica for Tea. She also meets Danielle, an important member of the Hale Pack. 
> 
> Liam comes home to a few questions from Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Danielle has always been one of my favorite weird little cameo character. I wish she would have been used more so I added her here. If this is a healthier minded Derek, he would need help and take in all who found their way to him. 
> 
> I'm still working on the stupid Stiles and Boyd DATE! Y'all have waited so long. I know. I feel like this is almost cheating to post this when I promised something else. I'm sorry. 
> 
> It's been a hard couple of months and I needed someone like Danielle to make me some tea and Pierogi so you get some too.

The storefront of Pheenie Beanie’s Coffee and Tea was well lit and friendly. A huge awning sheltered steel and plastic tables and chairs in the area surrounded by a decorative wrought iron fence. Stiles stood at the two posts that formed the corner of the fence and the path to the front door. The celtic knot on either side was an ancient warding. Not a lot of people knew of them.

Legion couldn’t have passed this line. Stiles had to admit that she was afraid to try. She trusted that Lydia tried. She did more than any other novice had ever done. She used forces so powerful she attracted attention from beings in realms previously unknown.

Still. Stiles worried that she was so tainted by the experience, burdened with the memories that she might be more like him than she was aware. She touched the iron knot. It was cold. Just cold. Nothing shocking. She smiled a bit and took a brave step. 

~

Erica was seated in a huge chair. One big enough for two, maybe three smaller people to share. The high back kept conversations from drifting around. A detail beings with acute hearing appreciated. 

“Is she magic?” Danielle Hale stood next to Erica with a tray of pierogi and a pot of tea. She inclined her head to Stiles, standing at the gate. 

“She was possessed by a Japanese chaos demon last year. She spent months in the Neuro Ward of Eichen House. It was kept quiet, her dad being the Sheriff and all.” Erica set down her teacup. Danielle filled it without taking her eyes off Stiles. Erica watched Stiles hesitate. “She’s better now.”

“You sure about that?” Danielle set the food down on the low table and made sure her hands were free. Stiles still hadn’t moved. Danielle knew a bit about magic users. She wasn’t one herself. She had paid Alan Deaton to ward the shop and house, it was just one on the things that she did for the pack.

Danielle, former orphan Danielle Rhodes, was adopted by Derek Hale when she was fourteen, was protective like a mamma bear when it came to the pack. She helped with Cora when Derek was going to college. She was also there when they found Isaac and helped Derek foster Liam. She had heard that Stiles was the subject of a quarrel at Derek’s house. The one week she missed and shit goes down. 

Erica and Danielle watched as Stiles passed the boundary and grinned. “See. She’s fine.” Erica laughed. 

“She’s got a guilty conscience.” Danielle tsked. 

“Who doesn’t?” Erica defended. “She almost died. Give her a break.” 

Danielle could see that Stiles looked relieved. She also looked too skinny. Erica had requested the Bacon, potato and cheese dumplings especially for Stiles but had eaten several in the short time the plate was set down. “You let that scrawny thing eat what she wants. I’ll make more.” 

Erica looked guilty, shoving another one in her mouth. “Bu thaa o ghoooo.” 

“Manners matter missy.” Danielle tugged at Erica’s ponytail then turned, walking back to the kitchen. 

“Always avoid alliteration.” Erica sassed back, although Danielle probably didn’t understand what she said with her mouth full.

 

~

 

Pheenie Beanie’s Coffee and Tea was warm and smelled amazing. Coffee was roasted somewhere in the back and gave the whole place a toasty aroma. There was also food cooking. Not just sweets and defrosted bread, but something homey and savory. 

Stiles found Erica in the huge floral chair, looking like a kid who peeked at Christmas. “Hi?” Stiles then saw that there was a half empty plate of... “Are those pierogis?” Stiles dropped her backpack with a thunk. 

“Danielle is making more.” Erica scooted over as Stiles elbowed her way to the plate. 

“Oh. My. God.” Stiles ate the first one, slowly, enjoying every second. She ate the second one whole.  “Just like my mom made.” She mumbled around her food. 

“I thought you would like them.” Erica smiled. 

“I love you so much right now.” Stiles may have had actual tears in her eyes. Partly because the dumplings were really hot. 

“I know.” Erica patted Stiles on the knee. 

Erica and Stiles spent the next two hours talking about Jackson coming to the art class, Stiles bumping into Derek at the Library and various classes they had. None together, which they planned on changing next term. 

Stiles requested an order of Pierogi “for her dad” and shoved the sealed container in her backpack. Her dad might get some of them, but as soon as her body had room for more, Stiles would probably eat them. 

“Awe, crap. It’s really raining?” Stiles looked down at her feet. 

“Are those your church shoes?” Danielle elbowed Stiles. “‘Cause they’re pretty  ‘holy .’”

“Wow, No.” Erica scolded. “Never say that again, Grandma.” 

Erica put an arm around Stiles and directed her toward the door. “I’m really sorry you had to hear that. I swear, Danielle is usually so much better than that.” Erica glared at Danielle who  had ducked to the back room and came back with some disposable boot covers and an umbrella. 

“Oh my GOD! She’s not going melt if she gets a little wet.” Erica rolled her eyes hard. 

“What’s so wrong with a little protection.” Danielle forced the plastic booties into Stiles’ hands. “I use these when I scrub the floors in the kitchen. I’ve got a box of ‘em.” 

Stiles laughed and put them on anyway. “Thank you. It’s been years since I was overly mothered.” 

“Don’t encourage her. She’ll follow you home and tuck you in.” Erica made a serious face like it had happened to her. (It was the first night after she got The Bite from Derek. She actually cried at the attention and loved it. Don’t tell Danielle.)

Stiles gathered her things, Erica walked her to the door. 

“It was so nice to meet you, Stiles. Don’t be a stranger.” Danielle waved her off as Stiles darted through the downpour. 

“Why would you say that?” Erica scolded.

“What?” Danielle gathered the empty plate and teapot. 

“Don’t BE a STRANGER?!?” Erica emphasized her point. 

“Hooo, yeah!” Danielle cringed. “I’m just gonna go bake her a cake.” She slunk off to the kitchen, looked over her shoulder as Erica continued to scowl. 

 

~~~

 

Derek stood at the open doorway watching Liam run in from the rain. Liam had his ball cap pulled low so when Derek stepped in front of him, he didn’t stop.  He bounced back several feet as he met the immovable object that was Derek’s chest. 

“Whoa. Sorry.” Liam skidded on the wet floor. 

“Welcome home.” Derek could smell Hayden’s perfume on Liam and knew that even if they were at the school library, they were not just doing homework. 

“I know I’m late. I forgot my phone charger and my phone died or I would have texted.” Liam took off his wet jacket. Derek blinked at his blatant lie. 

“Okay, I didn’t plug my phone in.” This was closer to the truth. “Hayden had a rough day. One of the girls that we know had a huge seizure today. Hayden was really upset.”

“That’s kind of you to help her out.” Derek used a thumb to wipe some of Hayden’s shiny make-up off of the end of Liam’s nose. He held it out to show Liam how discrete he wasn’t. 

Liam tried to look shamed but he instead sighed like a contented puppy. Derek rolled his eyes. 

“There’s food.” Derek escorted Liam to the kitchen counter and pushed him to sit in a barstool. He dished up a plate of enchiladas and rice slid it over to Liam. On top of the napkin was the copy of the flyer Derek pulled off the board at the downtown library that morning. 

Liam pretended it didn’t exist as he began eating, mostly because he was starving and wasn’t sure he would get to finish if Derek wanted to punish him. 

“When did you post these?” Derek put a strong finger in the middle of the paper. 

“What?” Liam couldn’t lie but he would delay. 

“You drew this. I know your work. When did you post these?” Derek thunked a hard rhythm on the counter. 

“Three weeks ago.” Liam mumbled. 

Derek growled and waited for Liam to look at him. 

Liam finally did. “Last full moon you said we needed to be stronger.” He flinched. “You said something was in the air.” 

Derek had said that. He was amped after running. There was a faint scent he couldn’t place but it pulled at his guts. He shouldn't have said it out loud. 

“Danielle is so busy, she hasn’t been around. Cora and Erica are always at school. Malia is supposed to leave at the end of the year and she’s going to take Isaac with her. 

Derek flashed angry eyes at the thought. “That’s not going to happen.” 

Liam didn’t let Derek’s anger stop him as he continued with his concerns. “Jackson only likes you and picks on the rest of us and Peter’s barely here and when he is, he an ass.”

Derek was growling low in his throat. Liam knew he wouldn’t hurt him. “I fell down a hole last month and nobody noticed for hours.” 

 

~

 

Derek fell silent. The “Timmy in the Well” incident was something they all laughed about at the end of the night. Even Liam. He didn’t think that he was really hurt but now looking at Liam, he could see that he felt forgotten and abandoned. The very thing that brought him to the Hale doorstep. 

“This” he held up the flyer “attracts attention from groups who don’t have our safety in mind.” 

Derek didn’t have to  explain hunters to Liam. Hunters scattered his pack, killed many of them and left Liam in the mountains to fend for himself. Danielle heard from a friend that he was found and dumped into the foster system without anyone knowing his history. It took months for Derek to get Liam assigned to him. 

“It’s cartoon wolves. Those three wolf moon shirts are everywhere. Hunters aren’t chasing down people who like fictional wolves.” Liam justified. He was right that the abundance of wolf themed items actually helps hide them. Even if it were a little ridiculous.

“If they saw this, which is a thinly veiled recruitment poster, they’ll shoot us.” Derek glared. 

“Come on. Really?” Liam took the poster from him. “The wolf drinking coffee and riding a bike? That’s going to get us killed? It’s a dumb wolf-fan meet-up.” Liam tossed the poster down. “Nobody even called about it.” 

“Well there is a real lack of information on here so that’s probably part of it.” Derek pointed to the info section. It said 

**Meet: September 16**

**At: the Gazebo in Hale Park**

**Time: Moonrise**

Liam squinted at the paper then blushed when he realized he forgot any name and number. 

“There isn’t really a way to connect this back to us so...” Derek almost smiled. “That’s good.” 

Derek took Liam’s plate and added a second helping. He set it down in front of the stunned teenager. He then leaned on the counter. “We should probably see who shows up. Make sure they’re not dangerous.” Liam grinned. Derek ruffled his hair and took the flyer with him as he walked away. “They’re probably gonna be nerds who can’t run to the bathroom without getting winded.” 

“Or furries.” Liam joked. 

“Let’s hope not.”  Derek shuddered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we (in our story timeline) are at the end of the day on Monday after the Friday movie meltdown. Erica mentioned to Stiles on Friday night, that Stiles could come see the therapy dogs on Wednesday. Do you want that? Do we think Stiles needs a dog? I have several, and would love to write one in, but my mistake is always to add too many characters to my work. Does she need it? Do you want it? 
> 
> What do you think? I'm not going write by committee but I will take advice. 
> 
> Does 'committee' look like it has too many letters to anyone else? 
> 
> Also, does it seem like Erica is doing too much? I want her to be super excited to be able to do what she wants and maybe over-filling her plate.


	9. Tuesday Morning - Hits me straight in the eye.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison is alive and mostly well here in my little fan-fic. We catch up with her family status in this AU and I shuffle pairings like a black jack dealer. Wheee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo... It's been a long and drawn out gap in chapters. My apologies. I'm just here doing what I can do with my suck-ish self. 
> 
> I thought I had deleted these chapters. I didn't label them, gave up looking for them, I opened a mislabeled file and voilà. So you get another chapter in the slowest moving drama ever to be pecked out on an ancient macbook. Lucky you. 
> 
> Chapter title from the Cowboy Junkies song "sun comes up and it's Tuesday morning."

Allison Argent hated small towns. Really hated them. Her entire school career was one crappy farm town after another. Her dad’s job with the the Fish and Wildlife Service had taken them from the coldest tip of Alaska to the wasteland of New Mexico with a large part of it spent in Idaho and Montana. Her dad had a PhD in biology. Her mom had been a criminal investigator with the FWS. Chris monitored wild wolf populations and Victoria investigated poaching and illegal hunting rings. 

It was three years ago in Alaska when her mom died. Her dad  was at the base camp, Victoria in the helicopter watching a small pack treck through a mountain pass. It happened so suddenly. The radio crackled and then was silent and it took hours to hike to the crash site. The crash site was burnt wreckage at the bottom of a ravine where a wildfire climbed the steep hillside, preventing rescuers from retrieving the remains of the pilot, Frank Kibrik, and Victoria. Chris Argent came back empty and broken. 

When her dad said they were moving back to California, she cried with joy. She rejoiced at the thought of shopping at a mall, meeting friends for coffee, seeing a movie opening weekend instead of being behind the pop culture curve by month or years. Instead, her dad brought her back to Beacon Hills. His plan was to open a wolf sanctuary and rescue center.  They lived here for a few months when she was in High School. She hated it then. She hated it now. 

She envied everyone else her age who had moved into dorms and away from their parents. She stopped asking about college when her dad finally cried, told her that he needed her close, safe. He apologized for being selfish, that he should let her go. Allison saw how broken he was. She was too. Maybe that’s why she didn’t really try to leave him. 

Allison signed up for classes at Beacon Hills Community College where she could access to the school gym and pool. She tested through the annoying basics and showed up for the practical classes. Today she had cross country training and needed to use the lab for a few hours. 

The instructor/coach for the cross country class took attendance and led them outside; disinterested in participating,he was reading something on his phone. The track at this school was old. And after last night’s rain, it was really muddy. Allison jogged with the class for most of the loop but at the low curve, they merged to single file to avoid the foot deep water. 

She had headphones in, her pace managed with a setlist so she didn’t hear when the person next to her had started talking to her. He ducked into her sight line and smiled to get her attention. 

“We’ve met before.” The guy was pretty. One of those chiseled polished and perfect pretty boys that she hardly ever looked twice at. 

“I don’t think so.” She put her ear piece back in but he kept talking so she paused her music. 

“We did. In high school.” He jogged backwards at the same speed she did forward. 

“I didn’t go to high school here.” She lied. 

“Not for very long. But you did. You were in the Archery Club. I’m Jackson. We met then.” The guy did look familiar. She really didn’t want to remember anything or anyone. 

“Yeah, okay.” She didn’t warn him as Jackson stepped backwards into the large puddle.

“Oh, Shit.” He leapt sideways out of the water. His pristine track pants now wet and muddy. 

Allison kept her pace and resumed her music as Jackson brushed off his misstep and dropped into her pace again. 

“Do you still shoot?” 

Allison was really trying to ignore him. He just didn’t seem to care. “No.” She did occasionally but he didn’t need to know that. 

“You do.” He seemed to take pleasure in calling her on the lies. “I still have a longbow I use on occasion. You like compound, right?” 

Allison really didn’t want to discuss her preference for a crossbow. She did wish she had one right now. 

“I’m trying to...” Allison wasn’t sure how to finish her sentence. She was trying to avoid conversation. She simply pointed at the track. 

“Okay.” Jackson dropped back to jog behind her. That didn’t help. She looked over her shoulder several times before she decided she’d just leave. She dropped to a walk and let Jackson pass before she turned toward the locker room. 

It wasn’t the first time a guy persisted when she gave no indication of interest. She just wasn’t in the mood today to keep her guard up or be rude. She changed quickly, shouldered her bag and was almost to her car before Jackson called out to her again. He was still in his track clothes; he must have been watching for her to leave. 

“Fucker.” She mumbled under her breath. He stumbled in his pace as he was coming across the parking lot toward her. 

“This is NOT OKAY.” She stopped and shouted at him. “Why are following me?... It’s predatory! It’s threatening!” She muttered that she would defend herself. 

He stopped about ten feet away. There were several cars in the lot. She didn’t want to let him know which car was hers. 

He looked shocked. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t move.

“I remember you. You asked me out while you were dating Lydia Martin.” She wasn’t sure why she wanted to call him on his previous bad behaviour. 

“I’m not now. ” He looked shaken, like he wasn’t sure what to do. “We broke up and then she moved.” 

“I don’t care.” Allison didn’t take her eyes off of him.

“I just wanted to...I’m sorry.” Jackson turned around and walked back to the track. 

Allison waited for him to go through the gate and out of sight before she finally unlocked the basic grey Corolla. She kept checking her mirrors. He didn’t appear to be watching her but she didn’t relax until she was off campus. 

She shivered like she had been hit with a cold wind. She wasn’t sure why he had upset her so much. He was shark-like with his attention. She felt hunted. He scared her. Except for that little second where he looked lost. Like he didn’t know what to do. She cursed herself for feeling bad. She huffed a frown at herself. He was wrong to come after her like that. 

She didn’t like to be reminded of the day Lydia cornered her in the ladies room.

_ Lydia had asked, “Did you know Jackson and I are together?” Allison shook her head. Lydia was so matter of fact. “You’re new here so I won’t blame you.” She gave Allison a thorough top to toe evaluation. “Jackson thinks jealousy is a measure of affection when it’s really fear of abandonment. It’s his issue not mine.”  Lydia tapped a perfect nail on her own chin. “It’s too bad  you represent his self sabotage. We could have been good friends.” Lydia then flipped her hair over her shoulder and walked away.     _

And that was it. Allison was dismissed. Never to be invited to anything. Ever. It wasn’t soon enough before she moved again. 

What did Jackson want? What was he thinking? She just couldn’t get that stupid face out of her mind. His stupid stunned face. His eyes maybe a bit more wet than usual. She refused to feel bad about that. He chased her to the parking lot. Goddammit! She did feel bad. 

~

Most people, if they didn’t have another class, chose to go home to shower because the locker rooms at the community college needed an upgrade twenty years ago. So Jackson was alone and could shower for as long as he wanted. 

Allison Argent was in his class today. She must have registered late. He hadn’t seen her in years but here she was running around the track in Beacon Hills again. It was like his recent change of attitude was being rewarded. He thought this was a Karma thing. He helps a bunch of kids one day and the next, he sees the girl that got away. What a naive idiot he was. 

“This is NOT OKAY!” Allison yelled at him. It echoed in his head. Swirled around with the negative self talk he usually heard. The voices familiar, mixed with words spoken to him. 

“You  _ are _ hurt.” That’s what Meredith had said. He  _ was _ hurt. The embodiment of hurt. He was someone to flinch from. He was dangerous. He was. He’d known this. Been this for most of his life. He was taken from his mother’s body in an emergency room. He was born from death, cursed. 

He clenched his jaw, keeping his body quiet as he shook through the shuddering sob that threatened to become howling pain. Tears lost in the shower spray. 

“Fuck! FUCK! Fucking stupid fuck.” He wanted to claw his own heart out. He scared Allison off. She ran away. Left the track and practically ran to her car to get away from him. He heard her heart pounding when she saw him. She was terrified. He did that. Just by talking to her. There was something really wrong with him. 

He thought that being part of Derek’s pack would fix him. He was part of something powerful. For the first time he felt he belonged. But he was still wrong, broken and everyone knew. 

He didn’t realize he had slipped to the floor until the water shut off. He wasn’t alone. Isaac was there. He was being lifted to his feet and wrapped in his robe, a towel draped over his head. Isaac steered him to the bench by his locker. Isaac sat him down and knelt so that he could look at his face. 

“I know.” Isaac didn’t say more for a minute but waited for Jackson to breathe. “It’s not true though. You aren’t wrong.” Jackson shook through another silenced sob. “I mean. You aren’t ‘wrong’, broken, made wrong.” Isaac seemed to be really uncomfortable talking about it. “I was told that all my life but it’s a lie. You’re sad.” 

“Pathetic.” Jackson cursed it out. He knew what he was. 

“No. I mean...” Isaac wrapped his arms around Jackson’s shoulders. “You feel sad but it isn’t who you are.” He rubbed soothing circles on Jackson’s back. “The feelings pass and you still exist.” 

“I hurt people.” Jackson whispered. “All the time.” 

“No. Just sometimes.” Isaac knew when someone hurt others intentionally, without remorse. Jackson wasn’t like those people. “You don’t always intend to.” 

“I’m a dick to people, I know it.” Jackson grumbled.

“Well you’re a dick to yourself as well, so stop it.” Isaac jostled the man in his arms playfully. Jackson shoved back just enough to get an arm around Isaac, then pulled him back into an embrace. 

“How did you know where I was?” Jackson asked, his face smashed into Isaac’s shoulder. 

“I don’t know.” Isaac thought about what he felt. The ache like when the cold cuts to your spine. But it wasn’t cold it was hurt and he knew it was Jackson. “I just followed the wind here.


	10. Hooray for Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Liam have issues. Derek's just trying to do everything right at the same time. Peter makes an appearance. Chris Argent is an angry driver. Malia wants bacon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loyal readers. Welcome to chapter 10. 
> 
> I think I’ve started each chapter with an apology for the length of time it has taken for me to get each thing written, so fill the blank here with whatever words makes you feel better. Here are some suggestions in random order. Contrite, penitent, humbled, accursed, inexcusable, and suckitude. ____ _ ______ ___ _______. 
> 
> You might be glad to read that I’ve realized what was holding me back. I needed to write a chapter to get past Tuesday in the storyline. I’ve written it and we are well on our way to a whole new day. Yep, I have 10,000 words of Tuesday coming up. 
> 
> Oh, also, chapter 9 was early Tuesday morning. Which I realize now is going to be a bit out of the linear timeline of the rest of the day. I’m gonna assume y’all are smart enough to work it into the scope. I have faith in you. 
> 
> So some of this was written MONTHS ago and a lot I wrote this week. I am going to post this without another set of eyes to catch my misspelling and typos. I take full responsibility, blame and credit. 
> 
> If you check my publication dates, you will notice that I had given my Girl-Stiles the Polish name Mieczyslawa (Mi-et che-swava) before they revealed Stiles real name (Mieczyslaw) on the MTV show. So, yeah, I guessed well. In my head, Stiles calls her real self Miecz (Mee-ettech) which sound a lot like Mitch, the name of DOB’s next character in AA. 
> 
> I haven’t watched every episode the last two seasons so my Liam is dating Hayden, who I like and I don’t plan to change that soon. I know the new hot ship is Liam/Theo. This is not an anti-ship it’s just not here and I don’t know it it ever will be. 
> 
> Okay. That’s a lot. I hope you enjoy this next bit. 
> 
> Thanks again.

Derek could hear Liam’s alarm going off upstairs while standing in the kitchen. How Liam was sleeping through it mystified him. Derek set his coffee cup next to his briefcase and jogged up the stairs to roust Liam. 

He knocked on the door before opening it and leaning in. “Hey, your alarm has been going off for ten minutes.” 

Liam’s hand fell to the floor where his phone was blinking and buzzing. He tapped the snooze and grumbled. The blankets moved but Liam made no other indication that he was going to get up.

“Come on Buddy. You have early class today.”  He jostled the bed with a bare foot. “You asked me to wake you up.” 

“Ten more minutes, Dad.” Liam mumbled. 

Derek stepped back. Liam flipped off the covers and sat upright. 

“Sorry.” He didn’t look at Derek.

“It’s alright.” Derek whispered. 

Liam looked angry and tears edged his eyes. “I dreamed...” He huffed out a hard breath and clenched the blankets. “I was dreaming...” 

Derek sat on the edge of the bed. “I know.” He held an arm out and Liam leaned into his shoulder to hide his tears.  “I do it too.” Derek choked back his own mourning. He knew that icy feeling of shock when you wake up and remember. The reality of loss rushes in sudden and harsh. 

“I dreamed my dad was making blueberry pancakes.” Liam husked out. “Like on Sunday mornings.” 

“That sounds awesome.” Derek lightly scratched the back of Liam’s head, scruffing up his messy hair. “I think we have a blueberry muffin. Do you want me to warm that up for you?” 

“No.” Liam sighed. 

“Is there something I could do to help?” Derek knew food wasn’t going to help. He wished it did. 

“No.” Liam rolled off the bed and stomped off to the bathroom. 

“Can we be out the door in twenty minutes?” Derek asked through the door. 

“Yeah” Liam said before starting the shower. 

Derek finished getting himself dressed. He remembered his own vivid dream from last night. He and Laura running through the preserve together. He’d woken up suddenly, swearing he could actually hear her crying out. 

Derek listened for Liam getting dressed. He searched the kitchen for the blueberry poptarts he remembered buying. He found an anonymous foil packet and put those in the toaster. The hideous purple frosting meant they were most likely wild berry. He hoped this was enough. 

“I appreciate the effort.” Liam almost smiled as he shoved a pop tart into his mouth and scuffed into his untied shoes and walked out the door.  Derek followed Liam out the door to the garage. 

The drive from the High School to the City Offices took Derek past the edge of Trinity Forest. Derek slowed, rolled the windows down. The morning air still clung to the trees and crept along the ground, the sun not yet high enough to burn it off. Derek felt a rattle in his chest as an animalistic chuff escaped his buttoned up presentation. The sense of longing fresh again. He let it burn down his spine until his eyes clouded with tears. A honk brought him back. An impatient truck didn’t appreciate the beauty of the morning or Derek driving under the speed limit. Derek waved apologetically and resumed a reasonable speed. 

Derek continued to the city planner’s office. He sipped at his coffee, shaking off this malaise and forcing himself to address the realities of his life now. He was a responsible adult with a teenaged child in addition to his pack, a house to manage, a full time job and various other contracts and obligations. Today he was meeting with Lani  Mahealani, the city planner who had helped him negotiate the land grant for the Wolf Sanctuary. He hadn’t met the founder who had sent the proposal. He had worked with Lani exclusively. The Mahealani family had moved to Beacon Hills a generation ago. His mother had been good friends with Lani since college. Lani knew their family history better than Derek. 

Derek watched the truck pull into the lot behind him. His senses on alert. He parked and waited for the driver to exit. Lani’s office was in the community center next to the new downtown library. The guy driving the truck, who had honked at him, could be going to the library, paying a ticket, appearing in court or going to the most out of the way coffee stand in downtown. Derek sat in his car and waited to see where the man went. He walked toward Lani’s office. 

 

~~~

 

Chris Argent was going to be late. Well not late for anyone else. He liked to get to important meetings at least fifteen minutes early. Some would say it was an intimidation tactic. Always be there first, make the other person defend their timing. He was never early for that reason. He was just never comfortable unless he knew where he was. He used that time to familiarize himself with the space. The person in front of him was driving like this was a parade, windows down, feeling the air. He was outdoors most of his job so he understood compulsion but it was Tuesday morning, not a sunny Sunday afternoon. He finally broke the small town rule (Don’t honk unless you know that person and saying hi, or it’s an emergency.) and honked impatiently. 

He then watched the car turn all the same turns he was making. What’s the fable they tell now. Never yell at anyone in traffic on the way to a job interview? His luck was fantastic. They looked to be going to the same place. And this guy was also early. 

Chris parked his vehicle and didn’t look over his shoulder. He walked to the office. 

Chris walked past Lani’s office, spotted her sitting behind the desk reading something from a electronic tablet. A woman about his age, she looked regal. She had her hair bundled in a large bun on the back of her head. He had spoken on the phone with her but didn’t really know how powerful she looked. He knew himself well enough to know he was now at a disadvantage. He loved powerful women. 

Seeing she was busy he took the time to walk the perimeter of the building. The newer construction obvious from the young landscaping although the design was mid century reminiscent it was a modern take on it. The center of the building was an open atrium with a large tree growing through the center. The base of it surrounded in pebbles and ferns. It smelled like old growth. They had obviously been conscientious with the construction to accommodate. He walked a flagstone path to the tree. A redwood. He could feel himself relax just enough to shake loose the crick in his neck that had bothered him all morning. 

He was sure this meeting was going to be good news. He smiled for the first time in days. 

~~

 

Derek finished his coffee in the car. He had a few minutes to kill and the morning DJ on his local public radio was in a ten song set spider-webbing through the members and friends of The New Pornographers. He couldn’t leave in the middle of Neko Case’s ‘I wish I was the moon tonight.’ It had been one of Laura’s favorites. He might have stayed through the promised upcoming Case/Lang/Viers if a certain uncle hadn’t casually leaned against his car. 

“What are you doing here?” Derek got out and locked the car. “I hope you are paying a parking ticket.” 

“No, dear boy, I never get parking tickets.” He said with a smarmy grin. “I’m here to find out what you are doing with our family’s heritage land.” 

“You got letters explaining this deal from the land trust.” Derek knew because he had delivered them to Peter’s address personally. 

“Yes, I read your vague explanation. You’ve approved a building with a septic system, solar power and a gravel road that connects with the state road that will be gated and inaccessible by the public. It will be used to house rescued wild animals.” Peter stopped walking and turned to put himself decidedly in Derek’s personal space. “Opening a petting zoo?”

“No. It’s a wolf rehabilitation and rescue center?” Derek didn’t back up. He actually wasn’t threatened, he knew his uncle wouldn’t dirty his clothes here in public. 

“Why?” Peter pushed. “Why in our territory? We’re the only wolves here.” 

“They are bringing wolves from Alaska, Washington and Montana.” Derek had these same questions. He was assured by Lani that the biologist in charge of the center had approval from the state and federal authorities for all the animals he was bringing. 

“Why?” Peter asked like he was hinting at a larger conspiracy. “Why bring them into our territory?” 

“They are wolves, Peter. Not like us. Regular wolves.” Derek almost laughed at the idea that someone would be stupid enough to bring another pack of werewolves into Hale territory. He was a Union Alpha with the Western Lycanthropic Coalition. He might not have a large pack but he did have some powerful allies. 

“Are you going to inspect this place regularly? Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” Derek didn’t have an official arrangement but he had planned on watching it closely. 

“You know I know you’re lying.” Peter laughed. 

“I’ll make sure it’s a condition.” Derek hedged. 

“Yes, because I’m coming to this meeting so you don’t turn into the puppy you alway do when Lani calls you ‘Kaipo’.” Peter took Derek by the arm and led him toward the office as if he were being punished. 

Derek would have resented his Uncle if he weren’t somewhat happy to see him. He hoped that maybe they would get a chance to discuss Malia before Peter disappeared into whatever social group he moved in now. 

Derek wasn’t sure where Peter had been but he smelled faintly of red wine, musty antique store, and leather. Peter could be redecorating his Eichlers-esque soft-modern manor or he could be a member Kubrickian fetish club. Peter was an enigma. 

“Derek, Kaipo, it’s so good to see you.” Lani pulled Derek in for a generous mom hug. She was almost as tall as he was and Derek instinctively hunched down to tuck under her chin. It was a huge honor if she were a fellow Alpha or even a werewolf. She smiled over his head at Peter. Peter rolled his eyes. 

“Have some dignity.” Peter whispered. 

Derek grinned as he stepped back, making room for Peter’s turn. “Showing respect is dignified.” Derek whispered back. 

“Peter, How are you?” She offered a somewhat formal cheek, which he kissed. 

“Well.” He held both of her hands and radiated his most charming smile. “You are more lovely as each year passes.” 

“Hush, you.” 

She waved them down the hall to the conference room. Chris Argent was spreading a large blueprint and map on the table. 

“Mr. Argent, this is Derek Hale, the Wildlife liaison from the Sheriff’s office and also the head of the Preserve board.  This is another member of the board, Peter Hale.” She settled herself in at the head of the table. “You can to get started, Chris.”

 

~~~

 

Malia wandered bleary eyed into the coffee shop. Danielle carried out a box of pastries and a carafe of coffee and set them on the counter. 

“You’re up early.” Danielle walked around the counter and guided sleepy Malia into a cozy hug. 

“I didn’t sleep well.” Malia practically melted into Danielle’s shoulder. “I was dreaming of this wolf crying in the woods. I couldn’t find her and her voice was so loud.” 

“Mmhmm” Danielle rubbed her back. 

“I can’t decide if it’s my mom calling me home or if it’s just a dream about nothing. You know, like pizza nightmares.” Malia sighed. 

“Did you eat pizza in the middle of the night?” Danielle leaned back to get a look at Malia’s face. 

“No” Malia scrunched her face. “That’s what’s weird.” She pulled out of the hug and dropped into the large cushy chair. “It felt urgent. And familiar.” 

“Being a convert,” (why she used a religious term always confused Malia. Everyone else thought it was funny.)  “I don’t have the same genetic connections you do. I do hear Derek in my sleep sometimes. He was restless last night too.” 

Malia looked up at Danielle with her most pleading face. “Can I get a coffee and some bacon?” 

“Honey, You can have anything you want.” Danielle gave her a gentle pat on the cheek and went back to the kitchen. 

Danny Mahealani picked up the box on the counter and was on his way out the door when Malia stopped him. “Hey, why do you smell like my dad?” She had only seen him once since being here. A short and terse interaction at one of the full moon events Derek had organized at the house. 

“What?” He almost dropped the box as Malia lept over the coffee table and dropped in an aggressive stance between Danny and the door. 

“My father. Peter Hale.” She leaned in for a long huffing smell. “You’ve seen him. Minutes ago.” 

“Yeah, He’s a family friend.” Danny looked confused. 

“You don’t live here.” Malia accused. 

“Uh, I do. I’ve been in Hawaii for college but I do in fact live here.” Danny backed up to the counter and set the box down. “I’m pretty sure you’re the stranger in town.” He looked ready to throw a punch. 

“Where is he?” Malia almost whined. 

“He’s in a meeting with my mother, the city planner. They are arguing about a wolf sanctuary going in on Hale Trust Land.” 

“How much do you know about wolves?” Malia was close to flashing a fang. 

“I was raised in Beacon Hills. I know all about your family.” Danny smiled. Malia hated admitting she was the outsider in her own family she was. 

“I’m coming with you.” Malia took the box off the counter and shoved at Danny. 

Malia shouted “Danielle, I’m leaving.” She then herded Danny out the door. 

Danielle came from the kitchen with a large ceramic cup of coffee and a plate of bacon. “Malia, I couldn’t hear you. What?” 


	11. Taco Truck Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a bit more info about Malia and Peter's deal in this world. Danny is a sweetheart and I love him. 
> 
> Honestly, I was just looking for names of adults I could use for city council persons and this city planner so we get an OC of Lani, Danny's mom. I like her. She's awesome. (Derek needed someone to mother him a bit.) 
> 
> The Sheriff might just be playing the field in this world. I thought he was gonna be hanging with Melissa but when I made the Mayor Mrs. Martin, She started looking interested. We might need to check in on these three later. 
> 
> IT'S DATE NIGHT! Boyd and Stiles are finally meeting up for TACOS. 
> 
> How long have we waited? Too Freaking LONG.

Allison Argent pulled into the garage of the house her father had rented. She wasn’t sure why he’d chosen a five bedroom house when it was just the two of them. She thought maybe it was her dad’s way of giving her some of the independence she would have had without really letting her go. She glad for it. She had a lot of space, her own entrance, a small kitchenette on the patio, not that she would ever use the grill but the small fridge was handy. The small pool and hot tub would have been an awesome place to hang out with friends. If she had friends.

She dragged her gym bag from the car. She was still shaken a bit from the awkward and somewhat frightening experience at the track that morning. Stupid boys.

She unlocked the door to the house and was greeted by their whiny wolf/husky hybrid, a huge grey dog with brilliant blue eyes. “Hey, Toya.”  They’d had her since a few months after her mom died. Her dad found her abandoned in the mountains. He said she must have been freed from a sled team. Probably because she was obstinate and independent.

Toya leaned heavily on Allison’s leg. “I wasn’t even gone that long. Why so sad?” She knelt down letting the dog lick her and brush against her face. Toya licked at the side of Allison’s cheeks. “I know, I got a little freaked out today but I’m fine. Really.” She scruffed the dog for a bit before walking through the house to her room.

The dog followed making random yelps and whines all along the way. Allison hadn’t had a husky before but was told they are very vocal. After the first few weeks of constantly trying to figure out what was wrong with this animal, she finally just started talking to her as if she understood. Toya was the best therapist Allison had. She was a great listener and her commentary was always tonally appropriate. Allison told Toya all about the Jackson interaction and by the end of it, she felt less guilt about her reaction. “You’re right. We gotta speak clearly about our feeling.” Toya yipped her agreement.

~~~

Malia sat in Danny’s car glaring suspiciously at the man driving. “How long have you known Peter?”

“Um, all my life.” Danny smiled like she wasn’t growling under her breath. “My mom and his sister were best friends.”

“Yeah?” Malia wasn’t jealous. Why would she be. She had only known this man was her father for a year or so. “Before the fire?”

“Yes.” Danny answered somberly.

“What was he like before?” She wondered if he knew back then that she existed. She could never bring herself to ask.

“Funny. Snarky. Handsome, vain to a fault. I guess he still is. He can be selfish but in a really generous way. Like, if he likes you, he’s going to pay for everything he wants you to have.” Danny didn’t mention that Peter paid for him to go to private school in Beacon Hills, Hawaii for college and bought a condo for him to live in while there.

“He hasn’t given me anything.” Malia frowned.

“He owns the coffee shop. Pheenie Beanie’s Coffee and Tea, that’s his.” Danny almost told Malia Peter had named it after his baby daughter who died in the fire. “Have you ever been charged for anything there?”

“No” Malia whispered. “I thought it was Danielle’s.”

“A lot of people do.” He’s basically just let her have it. He pays costs and lets her keep the income and do with it what she thinks is best, but he has a list of people who aren’t allowed to pay.”

“How often do you talk to him?” Malia still didn’t like Danny or Peter.

“He’s different now. He’s distant, quiet, he can be rude, verbally brutal. So, I don’t talk to him.” Danny wasn’t sure how to explain the relationship he had with Peter. Before the fire, Peter was a fascination. Handsome, smart and vain. Danny had his first confusing feeling about Peter. Peter never saw him as anything more than one of the many kids running around the Hale house.

Now, Peter might see Danny as one of the few left that called him uncle. Danny suspected Peter was paying for things to cope with the loss. Things he would have paid to his own kids now went to the mix-matched pack Derek was building.

Malia took several deep breaths. “Did he know about me?” Why she could ask this stranger when she couldn’t ask Derek or Cora.

“I don’t know.” Danny didn’t owe Malia anything. He wouldn’t lie to spare her feelings.

“Thank you.”

~~~~

Stiles had a long day of classes on Tuesday starting at 9:00 am and ending at 4:00. She thought she had plenty of time to get ready for a casual date at 7:00 but now it was 5:30 and she was at the beginning stages of panic.

“Erica, you have to help me.” Stiles held the phone to her ear, standing in her bedroom in her underwear, looking at the few clothes she had which were all too big. She was gaining weight at a healthy pace, not binging, working out, eating healthy for the most part. She was still skinny and most of her clothes hung awkwardly.  She hadn’t wanted to buy new clothes because this wasn’t her real size; plus she hated shopping.

“I’m at the coffee shop.” Erica sounded distracted. “Meet me here and I’ll take you to my secret store.”  Erica muffled the phone while having argument with someone about cake. “... when she gets here. Chill already.”

Stiles hung up and put on the same pants she wore Monday. She had showered and was wearing new undies. “I’m being earth friendly. Saving water and such.” Maybe she should get a dog. Because then she wouldn’t be talking to herself. She would be talking to a dog, about her hygiene and fashion choices, which is absolutely acceptable.

Stiles spotted Isaac and Malia in the parking lot of the coffee shop. Malia had Isaac pinned against the side of a Toyota SUV, her hands under his comfy looking grandpa sweater. Isaac had a shy grin while Malia sounded like she was growling. Stiles shook off the weird thrill it gave her to see them so close. Her belly twitched and ached.

“I’m just anxious.” she told herself. It had been a WHILE since she had been on a date. She actually couldn’t even remember one. Did that memory get burned out? She had to have gone out before.  She had a vague memory of Brian asking her to his school’s Winter dance. She didn’t go. In fact the only memory she had of anything involving romantic physical contact were partial memories from Legion. He apparently used whatever body he had for any pleasure available. Stiles couldn’t find her body in the melange of sensations. She shuddered as she fought to come back to herself.

She was standing at the iron fence gate in front of the coffee shop. Danielle on one side of her and Erica on the other.

“...you coming in?” Danielle wrapped her arm around Stiles’ waist. “Ain’t nothing to be scared of. You walked right through last time.” Stiles blinked to get her brain back to here and now. Danielle knew about her status as a former supernatural being and also the existence of magic? Okay.

“What’s got you so freaked out?” Erica opened the door for her.

“I saw Malia and Isaac making out...” Stiles waved in the direction of the car. She meant to continue, explain that it created a vortex of stress, expectations and memories. She didn’t get the chance.

“Are they being gross in public again. I swear, Malia would have better manners if she _were_ raised by wolves.” Erica and Danielle laughed.

Danielle walked Stiles to the table closest to the counter where a giant piece of coconut cake was cut and plated. It looked like a perfect white triangular cloud dusted with sugared coconut snow.  Stiles sat there for a few seconds. “Is this for me? Can I eat this?”

Erica handed her a fork. “If you don’t, Danielle might cry.”

“We can’t have that.” Stiles dug in drowning her sense memories with the physical sensations of perfectly fluffy frosting and delicate cake.

Erica got two coffees and a piece of cake for herself.  She asked questions between bites.

“So tell me again. Who is this guy?”

Stiles swallowed. “His name is Boyd. I met him last week on campus.”

“What does he do.” Erica licked frosting from her finger.

“He plays basketball.” Boyd hadn’t said that but Stiles assumed because he had one in his gym bag.

“Oh, Is he tall?” Danielle was listening from her spot behind the counter.

“Yeah, but like, normal tall. Not basketball tall.” Stiles wasn’t sure if that was a proper way to describe anyone but Erica and Danielle accepted the answer.

“I saw him again yesterday. He bought me a cookie and I agreed to go out.” Stiles winced. “Wow. That sounds like I’m food motivated.”

“I hope so.” Erica nodded to the cake.

Stiles snorted a laugh and sputtered.  

~~~

Erica and Stiles were standing in the dressing room at the consignment shop three doors down from Pheenie Beanie’s. Erica’s secret store (which wasn’t really a secret) resold clothes bought from high end clients and store closings. Erica had put together an amazing selection.

She walked around Stiles pulling at her sleeves and hems. She dragged her fingernails through Stiles’ hair directing the wisps of hair at her nape, curling one bit around her fingertip.

Stiles shuddered hard as a wave of sensation overwhelmed her. “Don’t. I’m ticklish” She scrubbed the back of her neck trying to numb the residual touch. “It’s not going to help. My hair is hideous.”  

“No, It’s sexy.”

“Uh...it looks like I cut it myself.” She did. “Or it’s a hat made of live squirrels.” She wished.

“Oh, you have no idea, do you?” Erica gave Stiles a saucy smile. “You are adorable.”

“What? Me?” Stiles gave a restrained response.

“Maybe lose the wool tights.” Erica pinched the thick fabric and let it snap back.

“Urmph” She had a huge scar on her left leg where a bullet missed her bone by a scant inch.

“It’s gonna be warm tonight.” Erica coaxed. “Your long legs, that skirt and a hot date?”

“I got shot in the leg. Big scar.” Stiles turned her back so she couldn’t see the pity on Erica’s face.

Erica was silent for a long minute.

“How about pantyhose? Kate Middleton made them cool again.”

“No she didn’t. She has to wear them because she’s royalty and they can’t show bare legs.” Stiles knew more about royalty than she wanted to admit. Apparently Legion was a cerebral guest of Queen Elizabeth II’s cousin Nerissa Bowes-Lyon in the 40’s and 50’s. It was not particularly useful when they hid her and her sister in an asylum in 1941 while the Nazi’s bombed England.

“Well, she wears them well and so could you.” Erica wandered off to find something else to force Stiles to try on.

Stiles stood in front the three way mirror, looking at her profile. She smoothed her hair down on back of her head. Her hair had grown back. She was lucky.

She still had nightmares about the electricity burning through the malfunctioning Faraday cage. Lydia’s theory was correct. She would have been able to expel the spirit harmlessly. That is, if legion wasn’t so willing to burn Stiles to the ground out of spite. Lydia’s quick thinking and some spectral intervention saved Stiles life. The remaining superficial nerve damage was a small price to pay, really. Stiles skated her nails along her occipital curve. It felt like pins and needles and made her eyes water.

Erica came back with a pair of sheer grey hose, lace up ankle boots, a dark grey knit skirt with pockets, a dark blue sleeveless top and a silky dark copper windbreaker  Stiles ducked into the dressing room and came out, grinning with glee.

“The blue is amazing with your skin and the jacket... you may not make it to dinner.” Erica cooed.  “That color makes your eyes look like giant caramel apples.” Erica looked longingly.

“It’s basically blue and muted orange. It’s almost Mets colors.” Stiles beamed. She did like the outfit.

Stiles paid for the clothes Erica chose for her to wear on her date and then for a few more things that actually fit. Her dad wouldn’t notice the expense and might have even approved of the purchase. Wearing clothes that fit made it less obvious that she was still under her previous weight.

~~~

Sheriff John Stilinski stood at the refrigerator. He thought he had hidden a meatball sandwich in the back behind the carton of egg whites. He sighed at it’s absence. It was probably for the best. He was already wearing his dress shirt and he would have stained it had he attempt to eat it in the car, which he had planned.

“Hey, dad. I’m going out.” Stiles called from the stairs as she carefully clomped down them. This sounded like dressed up going out. Not keds and sweats going out. He closed the fridge and shouldered into his dress jacket as she rounded the banister into the kitchen.

“Did something happen?” Stiles gasped.

“No” John fumbled with his buttons not looking up.

“Are, are, are you going to a funeral?” She stammered as she stopped short, her hands shaking as the contents of her tiny handbag tumbled to the floor.

“No, wait, no.” He could see now the tears in her eyes. The last time he wore this uniform had been for the funeral of Dpt. Hauge who died in a tragic car fire. “Oh, Honey. No.” He crossed the room quickly, wrapped an arm around her. “After the  city council meeting, I’m making the  announcement approving the  wolf sanctuary. The press is coming. The mayor wanted everyone in uniform.”

“Oh, Okay.” Stiles smiled as she snapped and unsnapped the closure of her small date bag. She noticed her lipstick was on the floor next to her foot. She bent out of her dad’s half hug and picked it up. “Press Photos. For the Sanctuary.” She repeated for her own confirmation.

“I’ll be standing next to the founder, Chris Argent and our Wildlife Control Agent, Derek Hale.” He tugged at the waist of the coat, not feeling it as roomy as he remembered. “As handsome as I am, I’ll look like the oldest Baldwin next to those two.”

“Alec is the oldest and the best looking so you must be bragging.” Stiles helped straighten his badge.

“That one who was on Cold Case isn’t the oldest?”

“Nope.”

“He looks like the oldest.”  John still filed away his self doubt.

“Dressing up for a animal rescue center seems a bit much. I think the mayor has a uniform kink.”

Stiles liked to tease her dad about the relationship between himself and the Mayor. Mrs. Martin had been a teacher at school for years before running for mayor. She’d been long divorced and anxious to prove herself, she moved into government. It kept her extremely busy which gave Lydia and Stiles plenty of time together. After the various emergencies that they handled, the mayor and the sheriff were closer than most governing associates. Closer than parents whose children were friends. Closer than friends.

“Don’t.” Her dad blushed. “Never use that term again.”

“Okay. I won’t.” She teased.

“You said you were going out? You look pretty as a picture, yourself.” It was as if it was just now dawning on him what she said.

“Yeah.” Stiles didn’t want to talk about Boyd. She wasn’t sure how she felt. “We played dress up.” She spun for effect. “I forgot how pretty is itchy.”  She could feel the layer of foundation on her face and the earrings were distractingly loud. “The costume of it all gives me a rash.”

“Who is it you’re dressing up for?” He scowled in the most ‘dad’ way she’d seen in a while.

“We’re going for tacos.” Stiles avoided his face by searching for the other items that had fallen.

“Don’t you usually wear your Mets jersey for Tacos because of the artwork?” He waved his hand over his chest. She claimed the 80s era decal was like a bib, impervious to any edible substance.

“Erica picked the clothes. I didn’t want to complain.” Ah, the art of telling the truth and yet not.

“So, you dressed up for Erica?” John donned a doubtful frown.

Stiles sighed “Girls are weird.”

It was something they joked about from the time she was a kid last to get a training bra partly because she didn’t need it and partly because her dad had no idea where to get that sort of thing. She found out the hard way that some girls thought you were odd if you didn’t care about when you were getting boobs and spat at the whole idea. (Also some girls didn’t spit over their left shoulder like the suggestion was a curse to be avoided.) So when she was crying about how she didn’t like playing with girls anymore, her dad’s only consolation was ‘That’s okay, Girls are weird.’ She’d laughed like she wasn’t in that category and since it had been a little thing they said when they couldn’t explain motives. She felt bad that she incorporated their special phrase into a lie.

“Well, if you’re interested, come to Town Hall.  You could come see the model of the new building.” John checked his watch, felt his pockets for his keys and phone.

“Only if it’s made of gingerbread.” It got a laugh.

“Well NPR will be there taking photos.”

“National Public _Radio_ is the ‘press’ coming to take your photos?” She smirked.

“They have a website.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, Mayor Martin is paying that photographer out of her pocket.”

~~~

Boyd was early. He hadn’t gotten Stiles’ number so he was not going to risk missing her. He saw when she pulled up in the beat-up blue Jeep, singing along to...Build Me Up Buttercup? He watched as she adjusted her hair in the rearview mirror, applied lipstick, talked to her reflection, rubbed lipstick off of her teeth,  licked her lips, made a horrible face, rubbed the lipstick off with a tissue, smeared on chapstick. Finally, she wrestled the door open, twisted around, apparently trying to keep her knees together, jumped out, landed with both feet together and then gracefully closed the door behind her.

Boyd turned to watch the soccer kids Ice Cream Truck as if he weren’t some sort of stalker weirdo who couldn’t take his eyes off of this girl.

“Hey, Hi again.” Stiles looked amazing. The late evening sun was just at that perfect glow that photographers wait all day for. Her hair was warm in the light. Her eyes were bright brown and fringed with enormous natural looking lashes. Her skin light with high natural blush. Her lips looked rubbed pink but shiny.

“Yeah, Hi.” Why was he so nervous? He reached toward her as if to give her a welcoming hug. She held a hand out. Do you shake hands on a date? He ended up half hugging her while she punched him awkwardly in the sternum.

“Oof.” Stiles pulled away and laughed nervously. “Wow, sorry.”

“Didn’t hurt me. It’s fine.” Boyd patted his abs. He was fit. He knew he had that going for him at least. He wore a dark v-neck t-shirt under his lightweight hooded sweatshirt. His jeans were new and dark, fit tight and looked good. Still, he worried that he looked to much like a dumb jock.

“You look..smell good. Both really,  all good...stuff.” Stiles stammered.

She adjusted the skirt she wore. Her knees rubbing together in a nervous dance that reminded Boyd of his little sister’s emergency bathroom behaviour. They had nice bathrooms at this park and wondered if he should offer to walk her to them.

Stiles coughed out a few words he didn’t understand before standing straight again. “Sorry. I’m so nervous. No reason to be, right? This isn’t a date. It’s just tacos. Right?”

“You asked me out. You should know. I thought it was a date.” Boyd wasn’t sure if he should be hurt or not. She dressed up as if it was a date. He felt under-dressed, if anything.

“Well. It’s dinner...time. Dinner...ish. We are here to eat together. That’s what people do on dates.” Stiles waved toward the line at the Taco Truck then walked toward it like she was running away.

“Wait.” He jogged to catch up. “If you are having second thoughts, I can go.”

“Please don’t.” Stiles looked on the verge of tears. “I’m just...” She clenched her teeth and said ‘stupid’ under her breath. “...I don’t remember the last time I went out. With anyone. I don’t know how to do this.”

“Well. I don’t claim to be an expert or anything but I’m pretty sure we just get in the line, ask for the food we like, then sit together and eat it.” He grinned down at her. She responded with an eye roll.

“Well, If it’s that easy.” She shoulder bumped him as he settled into his place next to her in line.

“Yeah. The hardest part is choosing between pork and beef.” He usually got both.

“Wow. So limited. So you’ve already excluded the Pollo Adobo. Have you had their fish?” Stiles looked mock offended. “It’s the best.”

“Well I know I don’t want Vegan Cactus Tacos.” He pointed to the special of the day. “Sounds like punishment.”

“Those are actually awesome.” Stiles enthused. “My dad and I had them a while ago. Cactus is supposed to reduce your blood pressure.”

“I’m gonna stick with my regular.” Boyd tucked his hands into his pockets imagining dragging his fingers through her hair. It looked casually messy and he wondered if it felt as soft as it looked.

She stepped up to the window. “Hola” The man behind the tiny greasy window leaned forward with smiling recognition.

“Hey, Arlo.” Stiles beamed back. “I’ll have the naked chicken, carne asada and al pastor,  and whatever he wants.” She thumbed over her shoulder to Boyd and stepped back a bit so he could order for himself.

Boyd rattled through his usual order. Stiles paid and they were handed baskets of food. Stiles grabbed several small paper condiment cups.

“I’m not sure what I’m doing here.” Stiles had her paper tray of food balanced precariously while trying to fill the cups with salsa.

“Here, let me help.” Boyd took the tacos in his big hand while stiles fumbled with the green salsa. She stepped back.

“I mean...I don’t know what I’m doing here.” She waved between them while holding the overfilled cup. It sloshed onto the ground, almost hitting Boyd’s shoes.

Boyd smiled, trying to be reassuring. “It’s just tacos. Not a date. You owed me a dollar.”

“Okay, Yeah. I know...It’s just...I don’t know how to...” Stiles wanted to say ‘be herself’. It’s something people say and Boyd would probably hear it as her just being uncomfortable. It’s an altogether different thing if you knew that for months she had literally been someone else. It is a really different complaint when she has memories and instincts that she could draw up to augment her personality, easily affect a demeanor not her own. He had no idea how hard it was to let herself be awkward and vulnerable and spastic because this was the raw ragged edge of authenticity.

“No pressure. Really. I’m happy to just sit together quietly and eat food. You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to.” He was backing toward the grass. Holding her food out like coaxing a wild animal.

“I can’t sit quietly. It’s one of my flaws.” She followed him around the benches and toward the grassy slope. “If you like that sort of thing then I’m definitely not...”

Boyd had led her around the hedge to a small grove of young trees. Spread on the grass was a picnic blanket facing the western sky, cushions for sitting on, a small cooler filled with ice and drinks, a small speaker playing some sort of jazz and a bundle of flowers.

“I’m not...This isn’t...I can’t.” She gulped down the panic. “I gotta go.”

Stiles ran. She turned and ran like an eight year old who changed her mind about the haunted house. She ran like that time in the woods when she heard a raven screech. She scattered a family of five with double scoops ready to fall as she made an arrow straight path for the Jeep.

~~~

Boyd thought about stopping Stiles. Thought about catching up to her before she drove away. It was the wide eyed fear that stopped him. He’d seen it before. It reminded him of the time his little sister, Alicia had gotten lost in the woods and the search and rescue team were called in. Luckily it was a warm night. At dawn when she was carried down the trail and before she saw her brother, Alicia had that same look. Teary eyes afraid to even blink, her hands balled into tiny fists. He was so relieved to pull her from the arms of the wildlife officer and tuck her under his chin. He barely remembered to thank them and only did after long minutes of tears and reassurances. He never wanted to see his sister that afraid again.

He would let Stiles go. He didn’t need to know if he’d done something wrong. Maybe one day he’d bump into her on campus again but for now, he’d let it be.

~~~

Stiles was in the parking lot of Town Hall with no memory of actually driving there.  She hadn’t passed out but she could only hear static. She looked down at her lap. There were tears of mascara on her thighs. Her hands went to her chin where tears had streaked through the powder like a tiny river. She flipped down the visor and checked the wreckage of the make-up Erica had done. The mark on her forehead meant she had been resting it on the steering wheel for more minutes than she could remember. She reached for the glove box and the packet of wet wipes she kept there. She wanted her dad but couldn’t let him see her like this. Not when she knew he was dressed up and proud. The last thing Sheriff John Noah Stilinski needs is for his problematic daughter to burst into an important meeting, tear stained and tragic. He had enough of that last year. She had to prove she could get better. Be better.

The tidy little date purse had a powder compact, lip gloss, lipstick and lotion. Stiles managed to wipe off most of the streaks, clean up the smears so it looked more like she’d done intentional smokey eye makeup and powdered over her splotchy cheeks. Her mouth had a residual metallic taste. She must have dropped the mints in the kitchen and not noticed.   
“Ok, _Miecz_ , (Sounds like Me-ettech) pull it together. This is the stupidest thing you’ve cried about this week.” She winced. Her therapist would scold her for her negative self talk. “I mean, this is a physical reaction to stressors you didn’t see coming and were unprepared for. Don’t blame.” She tried a smile. It was pained and fake. “Now, let’s pretend everything is fine and go see Poppa be handsome.” Her stomach lurched threateningly. “Maybe he’ll take us out for waffles like after parent-teacher conference.” She wanted nothing more than to sit on the same side of the booth and eat sticky confections until she was sleepy and fall asleep waiting for the check like she was ten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason I couldn't write this stupid date was because Stiles didn't want to go and I kept trying to force her. I wrote this date so many times and it was all terrible. 
> 
> I watched an interview with DOB about him throwing out the first pitch at the Mets game, which he has been dreaming of his whole life and he said he almost cancelled that morning, he was so afraid to go. 
> 
> I realized that Stiles was recovering and like DOB, she was going to have things she really wanted to do and then couldn't. So, I listened to what she was trying to say and let her do it.


End file.
